V 




Class DA/ ? 6-^ 
Book ,Q fe . 



Copyright N^_ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



A POOR AMERICAN 

IN 

IRELAND AND SCOTLAND 



BY 

WINDY BILL -^-J 



h^rUJo^ . ^'^^ 



W. S. VAN COTT & COMPANY 

516 MISSION STREET 

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA 






Copyright, 1913, by BEN GOODKIND 
Published in February, 1913 



'©CI.A332807 



CONTENTS 



Chapter Page 

I— Billy and 1 5 

II— Ho for California 25 

III— As Regards Hoboes 40 

IV— On to Frisco 49 

V — 3an Fi'ancisco 65 

VI — Doing Frisco 68 

VII— Billy and I Chat 78 

VIII— Beating It Overland 94 

IX— Niagara Falls 127 

X— My Buffalo Sweetheart 130 

XI— New York City 134 

XII— Henrietta 139 

XIII— I Secure a Job 143 

XIV— Steerage to Glasgow 148 

XV— The Debut in Scotland 170 

XVI— Glasgow 175 



CONTENTS (Continued) 



Chapter Page 

XVII— Getting a Square Meal 1S4 

XVIII — Looking for a Furnished Room 188 

XIX— Doing Glasgow 193 

XX — Dancing in the Green 19G 

XXI— Taking in a Show 202 

XXII— "Ta-ta, Glesgie" 209 

XXIII— Edinburgh 217 

XXIV— Holyrood Palace 227 

XXV— 1 Seek Work in Edinboro 233 

XXVI— Sir Walter Scott 239 

XXVII— Stirling Castle 246 

XXVIII— Perth, Dundee, Arbroath 252 

XXIX— Off for Ireland 257 

XXX— Belfast 263 

XXXI— Portrush 274 

XXXII— Londonderry 279 



CHAPTER I. 

BILLY AND I 

Stranger, will you please permit me to give you an in- 
troduction to a very particular friend of mine — Little Billy? 

Little Billy and I had been on the bum together a lo'>jr 
while, and had prospected for gold and other things in Utah, 
Nevada, Mexico, Arizona and several other states and territor- 
ies, but somehow we never struck it rich. We had lots of ad- 
ventures, though, some of which were pretty lively and inter- 
esting, but I cannot stop to relate them here, for this book Is 
written for another purpose. 

One adventure we had, however, I will relate, for as it 
proved mighty interesting to us it may also prove so to others. 
It concerned two young girls, and it took Billy and I a long 
time to get over it, for adventures of that kind were few 
with us. 

One beautiful October morning Billy and I started out to 
walk from Ogden to Salt Lake City, a distance of about thirty- 
seven miles, and as we had a little money in our pockets, 
which we had earned by laboring in the harvest fields, we felt 
happy and independent, for what we had earned we had come 
by fairly and were beholden to nobody for. The weather was 
fine, cool and sunny, and it infected our spirits to a high de- 
gree. We talked and laughed aloud, whistled or sang as the 
mood came over us. The country through which we were 
walking was fine, for it was dotted with grain fields, meadows, 
orchards, snug farm-houses, and here and there along the 
road side, by shade trees. 

"Say Billy," said I to my chum, "these Mormon fellows 
have got good taste. See the snug farm-houses they've got, 



will you; the fine orchards, the splendid fields and all the 
other nice things. Wish I was a Mormon. I wouldn't mind 
living in a country like this. It's mighty snug and cosy." 

"It surely is fine. Windy," retorted Billy, "but I don't 
know whether I'd like to be a Mormon or not. Does a fellow 
have to marry a lot of women if he is a Mormon?" 

"I don't know, Billy. If he does, then I wouldn't want 
to be one. I wouldn't mind marrying a girl or two, one for 
every day and one for Sunday, but two is company and three 
is a crowd. Two will do me. But how about the mother-in- 
laws? Is a mother-in-law thrown in every time a fellow mar- 
ries a girl?" 

"Search me, Windy; I don't know. If the mother-in-law 
is thrown in every time, it's tough. No Mormonism in mine, 
thank you. They say Brigham Young had twenty-eight wives. 
He must have been a lustful, liquorish old codger, and if one 
fellow has so many I wouldn't think there'd be enough to go 
around. I've heard that the Mormons are dead stuck on 
apples, cider and ladies. I wonder if that's so." 

"I guess there's some truth in it, Billy, but I don't see what 
one chap wants so many wives for. Ain't two or three, or 
half a dozen enough?" 

"Does he have to support them all, Windy?" 
"Sure thing, son. The women can't live on air and scen- 
ery, can they? " 

"Well, hardly," responded Billy. "Guess I won't join the 
Mormon Church just yet." 

"Wait till you make a strike and get some money ahead, 
then you can sail in and try your luck with a few wives." 

"All right. Windy. Let it be understood though, that I 
don't take in the mother-in-laws. I like peace and quietness 
in my home, I do." 

Talking thus in a joking or blustering way, we walked 
along until about noon-time when we came to a clump of 
trees along the road-side which afforded a pleasant resting 
place. Between the trees rushed a deep irrigating ditch which 
was spanned by a substantial stone viaduct. 



We iinslung our blankets from our shoulders, dropped them 
on the sward beside us and sat down on the convenient 
stump of a tree. There were no houses in the immediate 
vicinity, though there was an orchard not far away, In about 
the center of which stood a commodious old farm-house. On 
the other side of the road were fields from which the corn 
had just been harvested and was shocked up on the ground. 

After regarding our surroundings for a moment or two, 
we brought forth a generous lunch which we had brought 
with us, had a royal feast, and washed it down with draughts 
of water from the irrigating ditch. The ditch-water was clear 
and cool, but it looked as if there might be some earthen 
sediment in it. For this, though, we did not care. A little 
dirt more or less never harmed us. 

After we had eaten and drank our fill we pulled forth 
our pipes and indulged in a smoke, chatting in the mean- 
while; soon afterward we lay down and indulged in a sleep 
• for an hour or two. It was about three o'clock in the after- 
noon when we awoke, and we concluded then to continue our 
journey toward Salt Lake. Just as we were getting ready to 
leave we noticed two girls coming toward us from the direc- 
tion of Salt Lake. We sat down again and took notice im- 
mediately. We wondered why two young ladies would be 
wandering all alone along the public road. "Are they farm- 
ers' wives, school girls, farmers' daughters, or what?" thought 
we. 

"Say Billy, I guess we may be in for a little joy. Let's 
brace them," suggested L 

"What for?" petulantly responded Billy. "We might get 
into trouble." 

"Trouble?" echoed I in derision. "What trouble could we 
get into by talking to two girls? If they don't want to talk 
to us they can keep a moving, can't they? I'm going to brace 
them. You keep mum, if you like." 

As the young ladies came nearer to us we observed that 
they were about seventeen or eighteen years of age, that 
they were dressed "in calico garments and that they carried 



books in their hands. Their skirts, which reached to their 
shoe tops were slightly blown aside occasionally by the 
breeze as they walked, revealing glimpses of sturdy ankles. 
The taller one of the two was a blonde with an abundance 
of yellow hair and features that were charming. She had 
blue eyes, a milk-white complexion, fine teeth and a shape 
that was alluring. 

The other girl was somewhat shorter in stature and was 
what might be called a demi-blonde, for her hair was of a 
chestnut hue; her eyes were hazel in hue, her ears small and 
her countenance round and full like a harvest moon, but, 
she too, was graceful in build, and showed in every form and 
feature, like her companion, that she was country-bred. Both 
were strong, sturdy and healthy. 

The young ladies were talking and laughing aloud as they 
advanced toward us, and the one with the hazel eyes, when 
she laughed, squealed like a young colt. A lively and merry 
lass was she, a romp and a hoyden, I thought, and if she is 
not a born coquette and heart-smasher, then I miss my guess. 

As I regarded these tw.o visions of lovliness my heart 
went pit-a-pat, and I was smitten. I really don't know which 
one I liked the best, though they were both enticing. I am 
dark and fancy blondes, but, other colors fascinate me, too. 

I sure was somewhat flustrated, and as to Billy, I don't 
know how he felt, for my eyes were rivited on the girls and 
not on him. I have always been a susceptible chap as regards 
the girls, and it never took me long to lose my head com- 
pletely or to make a fool of myself when m their company. 
Billy, though, was resei'ved, cold and distant (at first), but 
when once he got started he showed himself to be a bigger 
fool than I am. He just threw up his hands and surrendered 
unconditionally. A girl could do anything she liked with him. 

When the girls reached the spot where we were sitting, 
I pulled off my hat by way of salute and timidly said, "good 
day, ladies!" 

"How de do," responded the demi-blonde heartily, with a 
smile, for she saw that I was flustrated. 



9 

"This is a lovely day?" queritd I. 

' Indeed it ia," responded she. 

"Fine country around here," volunteered I. 

"Yep," responded she. 

The ice being broken and the conversation fairly started, 
it was kept up, until finally at a shy hint from nie, the girls 
sat down near us, the denii-blonde near me and the blonde 
near Billy. 

Bye-and-bye Billy and the blonde moved some distance 
away from us, where they were soon absorbed in conversation, 
so I had the other charmer all to myself. This is what we 
had to say to each other: 

"Do you live around here?" queried 1. 

"About half a mile from here," answered she. 

"Just coming from school?" 

"Yep," laconically responded she. 

"What do your folks do?" 

"Ranch," she said. 

"Do you like living on a ranch?" 

"No, I don't," she snapped. "1 hate it. What fun is there 
on a ranch? Nothing to see, nowhere to go, the same old 
thing all the time." 

"Why, don't they give any dances or parties around here''" 
asked I. 

"Oh, only once in a while," responded she in a tired way. 
"Once in a great while I go to a dance in Ogden or Salt Lake, 
or to the skating rink, and that's about all the fun I have. 
Wish I could live in Salt l^ake or Ogden. I'm sick of this old 
place." ' 

"Well, it must be kind of lonely for you. May I ask what 
your name is?" 

"My name is Annie. What's yours?" 

"My name is Windy Bill." 

The young girl looked at me to see if I were trifling with 
her, but when she saw that I was not, she turned her head 
aside, snickered and then broke out into peals of laughter. I 



10 

didn't know that I had said anything funny, so I asked her 
what she was laughing at. 

"That name of yours, of course. It's a horrid one. Where 
did you get it?" 

"Oh, I'm a great talker and when I get started I don't 
know enough sometimes to stop, so as my front name is 
William, or Bill, somebody nick-named me Windy Bill, and 
that name has clung to me ever since." 

"If it were mine, I think I'd a changed it. It isn't a nice 
name at all." 

"How am I going to change it? That's been my name for 
years and that's what every one calls me. May be it will be 
changed some day when I get married," said I, jokingly. 

"I don't think any one would marry a man with such a 
name as that. I am quite sure I wouldn't." 

"Pardon me for asking; are you ladies Mormons?" 

"Yes, we both are; and so is almost every one else 
around here. Utah is a Mormon state, you know." 

"Is every one in Utah a Mormon?" 

"No indeed," replied the young lady. "There are more 
gentiles than Mormons." 

"Is it true that a Mormon can have all the wives he 
wants?" 

"No, it isn't. It is against the law to have more than 
one wife, and the Mormons are a law-abiding people." 

"I've heard that some Mormons have several wives on the 
sly. Is that true?" 

"No, it is not." responded the young lady, reddening with 
anger. "Some people have very little to do, telling stories 
about the Mormons. If those kind of people were to mind 
their own business they would get along much better than 
they do. It has always been the fashion with some people 
to fib about the Mormons and to run them down, and to say 
ill-natured things about them, but the Mormons go along and 
mind their business and don't interfere with anyone, so I 
don't see why others can't attend to theirs!" 

"Well, miss, please forgive me. I am only asking for in- 



11 

formation. I don't know much about the Mormon business. 
I'm told that when a Mormon marries a girl she gets sealed 
to him. Is that so?" 

"I'd advise you to get married yourself and find out, " an- 
swered the girl sharply. 

"Oh, don't get mad. I don't mean any harm," said I. 

"I'm not angry," replied the young lady, "but 1 do hate 
to hear the Mormons fibbed about." 

"I've been told," persisted I, "that when Mormons get 
married they get sealed to each other in the Temple at Salt 
Lake in a secret chamber. Is that so?" 

"Young man, you're far too inquisitive, and I think you 
had ])etter look for information some where else," angrily ex- 
claimed the young lady. 

With that she arose and declared that she would have 
to go home. 

"Christeenah, ' shrilled she to her companion, "it's get- 
ting late and we'd better be going!" 

"All right," shrieked back Christeenah. "I'm a coming!" 

I had grieviously offended Miss Annie, but I knew not how, 
for I was only seeking information and did not know that I 
had said any thing to hurt her feelings. I felt heartily sorry 
now, for the girl's good looks and cleverness had made an 
impression upon me and I hated to see her depart. I wanted 
to draw her out more, and to indulge in a little love making 
had she permitted, but I had spoiled it all. I felt down-hearted 
for a few moments, but this feeling soon gave way to angei'. 
for if the girl wanted to get mad about nothing, she was wel- 
come to do so and be blowed to her. 

Billy had to break away from his charmer, too, and he 
was mighty loth to do it. He told me afterward that Chris- 
teenah was a loving girl, and that she had let him squeeze her 
hand and kiss it, but that was as far as she would let him go. 
She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen he said. 

"Say, Billy, let's us join the Mormon Church and marry 
them two girls," said I, to see what Billy would say. 



12 

"Join nothing,'' responded Billy. "I aint no Mormon and 
I don't intend to become one. That girl was mighty tempt- 
ing, though," reflectively added he, with a grave countenance 
and far-away gaze. "Darned if I wouldn't like to marry her." 

The dear creatures had gone and left us. We thought- 
fully continued our journey toward Salt Lake, thinking 
thoughts unutterable and not saying much, but, bye-and-bye 
our gay spirits returned to us, for what was the Mse of feel- 
ing blue. 

As we were good walkers it did not take us long to reach 
Salt Lake City, and we did not have to walk all the distance 
either, for a hay wagon came along with the driver perched 
on a high seat in the front part of the wagon, and he stopped 
his team and asked us if we wanted a ride. We told him, 
yes, and climbed up on the seat beside him. He was ^oing 
to Salt Lake, he told us, and during the two hours that we 
spent in his company we had quite a chat with him. 

When asked the question, he informed us that he was a 
Mormon, and from the information he gave us, we could un- 
derstand that he was quite well-to-do and pretty high up in 
the Church. Some of the questions we put to him made him 
smile, but he answered them frankly and good-naturedly. He 
was a handsome man, about thirty-five or there-about, had a 
black mustache, agreeable features and manners, and was a 
farmer. He was going to Salt Lake to make some purchases, 
he told us. 

It was about seven o'clock when we got into Salt Lake, 
and as we were hungry, the first thing we did was to hunt 
up a restaurant where we had a satisfactory meal for fifty 
cents for the both of us. After a smoke and a little saunter 
through the streets, we hunted up a rooming house. There 
we obtained a large, well-furnished room with a large bed in 
it for the two of us for four bits — fifty cents. 

We awoke bright and early the next morning feeling 
happy as clams at high tide and soon we were ready for put- 
ting in a day of sight-seeing and enjoyment. 



13 

Salt Lake is a pretty large city, the capitol of Moriuon- 
doni, and lies in a snug valley, surrounded by fairly lofty, but 
rather bare mountains. The streets are wide and well shaded, 
through some of them run brooks of clear mountain water, 
it contains many business streets, and line residences. A 
great many of the people are Mormons, but there are many 
who are not. All, however, seem to get along together ami- 
cably enough. The Mormons have learned long ago that they 
cannot have the whole state of Utah to themselves, so they 
treat the gentile courteously. Utah is a large state covering 
a great deal of territory, but today (1913) it does not contain, 
all told, half a million of people — about 400,000 is nearer the 
mark. 

There is a great deal of space fenced in about the won- 
derful Mormon Temple in Salt Lake, the grounds of which 
are laid out tastefully in trees, shrubs and flowers, but as it 
requires some red tape to get into the Temple, Billy and I 
concluded not to go in. There is a Tithing House connected 
with the Temple, we were informed, in which every Mormon 
is obliged to go occasionally to offer up a tithe of his earnings 
to hell) sui)port the Church. This is a duty which no Mormon 
must fail in, for if he does he will be regarded with disfavor 
and soon get into bad standing with his co-religionists. There 
is a Tithing House in Ogden, too, and in every other Mormon 
settlement, however small or large, I believe. 

The Mormons are clever people, and in almost every way 
are ]\ke oth(MS, except in the matter of religion and in a few 
other respects. They follow the strict text of the old testa- 
ment, which says that they can have all the wives and concu- 
bines they want, but the United States law steps in and says 
that they can have only one wife, for if they have more than 
one, that constitutes polygamy which is contrary to the sta- 
tutes made and provided. Under these circumstances the 
poor Mormons are in a quandary, for if they follow the strict 
teachings of their bible, they will get into trouble with the 
United States authorities, and if they do not follow the teach- 
ings of the good book, then they are acting in a reprehensible 



14 

manner, too. What are the poor fellows to do under these 
circumstances? 

I am going to tell you a little secret. Don't give me away, 
please! They have all the wives they want, who get "sealed' 
to them on the sly. Sh! Don't say I told you. How do I 
know it? Why, almost every one in Salt Lake who is not a 
Mormon will tell you so. Where there is smoke there is fire, 
but the Mormons deny strenuously and emphatically that 
there is any thing unlawful going on in their midst. 

Some people think that Mormonism is dying out. It is 
not. It is spreading. Today there are Mormon settlements 
in Idaho, Montana and other western states and territories, 
and more are being established. Proselyting is going on. 
The Mormons are into all kinds of enterprises, such as banks, 
railroads, trusts, commercial affairs, agriculture, manufactur- 
ing, etc., and many of them are wealthy. Some of them can 
support a mighty big harem, if they chose, and many of them 
do so, no doubt. 

There was Brigham Young, for instance. He is dead 
now, but when he was alive he was into all kinds of enter- 
prises, and was a leader and organizer in many. He was a 
man of wonderful genius and the true founder of Mormon- 
ism, one may say. Mormonism and Brigham Young are , 
synonomous terms, and Brigham's name will live when that 
of every other Mormon leader will have been forgotten. 

Billy and I meandered around Salt Lake a great deal 
during the few days that we spent there, and in the saloons 
especially did we learn a great deal about Mormonism, some 
of which may have been true and some not. We were told 
that the Mormon women like finery as well as any one else, 
and that they were right up-to-date in that regard. 

Ogden is another Mormon town of some consequence, and 
there we went next. It lies at the base of the Wahsatch 
range of mountains and is thirty-seven miles distant from 
Salt Lake. 

Ogden is a railroad center and full of restaurants, over- 
land lunch places, rooming houses, hotels, and the like. It 



15' 

contains several fine streets which are full of handsome, up- 
to-date stores. This burg, too, is alive with Mormons, and the 
tabernacle there is a sight to see. It is an immense egg- 
shaped building, capable of holding ten thousand or more peo- 
ple, the interior being so constructed that if one drops a piu 
upstairs, downstairs, or anywhere else in the building, one 
can distinctly hear the noise of its fall anywhere within its 
precincts. When Billy let a pin drop, he standing at one end 
of the building and I at the other, we were mystified. 

As our money was pretty nearly all gone by this time, we 
slept out several nights under a cosy shed in a brick-yard 
with our warm blankets over us. We liked this way of 
sleeping just as well as snoozing in a bed, and better, for 
rooms are sometimes rather stuffy. The outdoor life strength- 
ens and hardens one, and we felt fit for anything. We were 
strong and haidy as mules and could work like them and eat 
like them, too. 

It may not be a bad idea if 1 were to give a short de- 
scription of my little partner, Billy, here, so that you may 
get a better idea of what sort of an individual he was like. 
As regards myself I need not say much, for you will per- 
ceive wh;it kind of an individual I am as this narrative pro- 
ceeds. 

Billy was an English chap, born in the town of York, 
Yorkshire, after which the the little old town of New York 
City is named, and a place famous for Yorkshire puddings. 
Maybe you've heard of these puddings? I'd like to taste 
one to see what they're like. They must be good since they're 
so famous. 

Billy was what might be called a sti'awberry blonde, for 
his hair was somewhat like the color of a strawberry, and 
so was his moustache. The little fellow was not more than 
about five feet two in height, but he was as strong and tough 
as wire, and his powers of endurance were great, greater than 
mine, who was taller than he. Billy was much enamoured 
of that moustache of his, for it was the cutest little one ever 
seen. It was not one of the straggly kind with hairs sticking 



IG 

out all over it, but well shaped, neat and compact, with just 
the cutest little spit-curls at either end imaginable. It was 
a darling moustache and no mistake. Maybe Billy wasn't 
proud of it! He admired it hugely, and whenever an oppor- 
portunity offered would pull forth his looking-glass from his 
pocket, curl and fondle the moustache, and admire it to 
his heart's content. Many a time I bantered him about it 
and told him that I wished T had something like that; how 
much he'd take for it, etc., but Billy took no heed of such 
pleasantries. He just contemplated himself in the glass and 
grinned. And yet I cannot say that the little fellow was 
vain, for he was not stuck on the girls and would rather avoid 
than meet them. Whether this was diffidence or reserve, 
I don't know. 

Billy had blue eyes, a fair complexion, and small hands 
and feet, which were in proportion to his size, I suppose. 
Some people called him "Shorty," but Billy did not like the 
appelation, so I never used it. He considered himself as 
big as anybody else. And so he was, too. I, his partner, who 
know him well, can cheerfully testify that he was a man, 
every inch of him, even if his inches were not so many. 
Neither was he a bad-looking chap, nor had he a bad temper. 
His disposition was an equable one, and he never grew angry 
unless I teased him too much. Altogether, he was as nice a 
little fellow as one could find in a day's travel. 

In different places that we had been in, we had heard 
miners speak of Virginia City, and what a great old mining 
camp it had been, so we concluded to go there and have a look 
at it. Virginia City w^as a long way from Ogden, but that did 
not matter to us, for there were railroads running in that 
direction that we could beat, therefcu'e, distance had no ter- 
rors for us. 

But I did not finish my description of Billy, wholly, so 1 
had better do so before I proceed with my tale. 

Billy was born and raised in York, which lies somewhere 
north of London, he told me, and attended school in his 
native city until he was nearly twentv years of age. His 



17 

parents, wlio woro not (Hluciited, k:vw tli(> ;i(lv:nitaK(~s of an 
edncalion. and coiicliHU'd (o .!;iv(> l{ill\ llic licsl tlu-ic was 
{•oinj;-. Had tlu'.v hocMi able financially, (licy would hav(> scnl 
him lo (•olU\i;(\ but as tlu\v could no( alTord to do so. Billy 
had lo i;('t alon^ as w(dl ;is be could wilhout I be bi,t;ii(M- edu- 
cation. 

Billy's ratluM- dicMl wbcu lie (Bill.\) was about uinclccu 
years of ai'c. and as bo died a poor man Bill.\"s uiotlicr soon 
found it dillicull lo make l)olb cuds meet. Tbere was a 
daughli'r to provide tor, too, so I!iil.\' was lal<en from sciiool 
and appreutic((l to a iiaiMiess-maker. .\|)i)r(>nlices liave to 
serve (|uile a number of Ncars in the old co\intr\', and are 
taught their trade thoroughly, but all the compiMisation Billy 
g(jt while learniiifi; was his room and board and a I'tnv hay- 
pennies (hall'-])ennics) occasionally thrown in which he sptMit 
for meat i)ies or lollii)0|)s (candy). The fii'ub was not near 
as .t;ood as h(> koI at home, nor was anything; (dse, be told me. 

.\fter Billy luid worked a couple of years an idea began 
to (loat throuf^h his noddle that he was not j^etlinK rich vi-ry 
fast, so he became dissatislied and conchuhMl to skij) oul at 
the first opportunity. He had heard tales of how easy it is 
to get ricli in America oi' in the colonies, and he (old his 
mother when he visited lier that he wanted to ko abroad and 
get rich quick. She i)Ooh-po()he(l the idea, and told her son 
that he would get rich quick enough at home after lie bad 
mastered his ti'ade, but Billy could not see it that way. 1I(> 
could see no future before him at all, for even his master did 
not seem any too i)rosp(>rous, so he Ivcjit on working and 
thinliing, and concluded to Iveep his jilaus to himself, lor no 
one sympathized with them. He baled to leave bis mother 
and sister who had been so good to liiiu, but be would get 
rich for tlieir sakes and hel]) them along. He was ambitious, 
and i)roi)osed to satisfy his aml)ition, come what wonhl. He 
could nuike a pretty good harness, a, collar or a saddle, and 
had acquired a pretty fair kno\vl(>dge of his trade, but he was 
not yet able to do the finer work. He did not i)roi)ose to 



18 

learn it, eithei', for he had different objects in view. Old York 
was too slow for him and so was his apprenticeship. I 
believe he told me that he was expected to serve seven years. 
Billy slept at the rear of his boss' shop, and it was his duty 
to get up early in the morning to sweep out, dust off the 
shelves, stock and counters, to clean up generally, and have 
the establishment in apple pie order for business bright and 
early. After breakfast it was his wont to put in a long day 
of work. 

One morning when the boss came down he loMnrl the 
shutters still up, the place unswept and undusted and Billy's 
little cubby-hole of a room vacant. Billy's little bed had not 
been slept in, and the boss stood there perplexed and bewil- 
dered, wondering what had become of the boy. He rushed 
over to Billy's mother and asked her if she knew where he 
was, but she told him that she had not the remotest idea. 
Suddenly she remembered what Billy had told her a long 
while ago about flitting, so she informed the boss of her sus- 
picious. He became hopping mad then. He threatened to 
have the law on the lad and to make him suffer for his breach 
of contract. But it is usually well to catch your bird before 
you cook it. Billy had flown the coop late at night and by this 
time was over the hills and far away, well on his way to 
London. 

London was a good ways off, and seems longer when one 
has to hike it, but Billy declared that he didn't mind the 
walk. The farther he got away from old York the more de- 
lighted he became, for he knew that the boss would never 
catch him now. 

The poor little fellow had less than an English shilling 
(25 cents) in his possession when he left home, and he de- 
clared that London was several hundred miles away — at 
least it seemed so to him. He had a hard time of it reaching 
there, sleeping out and nearly starving, but in the end he 
arrived in London right side up with care, and unmolested 
by his boss or any one else. 



When he got (o liondon his real troubles begun, loi' this 
place was so big and he was so small that no one t(H)l\ any 
notice of him. lie was not the only fellow wlio was down and 
out and lool<ing lor work in that big city, and he got so little 
to eat and so little to do that he was hardly able to cast a 
shadow. Mis trials and tribulations were too many to relate 
here, but by hanging about the docks persistently, he iinally 
secured a job as steward on an ocean liner which was bound 
for New York. Another man had been hired for the position 
but he did not show up, so at the last moment Billy was 
taken on. Hilly had to sign articles tor the round tri]) before 
they wonhl tal<e him on, and then his ])a,\ was to be only a 
trifle, but he was informed that there were tips to be had if 
he knew how to obtain them. Billy did not know how but 
his fellow stewards gave him some hints, which proved use- 
ful. 

When he landed in New York Billy had about four dollars 
in his possession derived from tips, and could get no v^'ages 
unless he made th(< round tri]); this he would not do. When 
he landed Billy was the worst green-horn you ever saw, he 
said, for everything seemed so new and strange to him; he 
hardly knew which way to turn or what to do. He was 
advised to walk from one hotel to another and ask for a 
job, for that was the likeliest way to obtain one, some one 
advised him, and the quiclcest. He did as he was advised, but 
after calling day after day at such places with no result, he 
finally went into a restaurant where a dishwasher was wanted 
and applied for that position. He got it and went right to 
work at once. Six dollars a week was the pay, with board 
thrown in, but not room. The working hours were from six 
in the morning until eight at night, with thi'oe hours ofl", from 
two to five, in the afternoon. 

The hours were long and the work steady, but Billy did 
not mind these things, for he deemed the pay princely. One- 
pound-four a week! Why, it would be years before he could 
earn that much at home. He was elated, delighted, trans- 
ported. He was not sorry now that he had left home. He 



20 

thouiiht of home constant ly. howovor, and every cent that 
he conld save was sent home to his mother. That was about 
three dollars a week, which goes a long ways in York — at 
least so Billy told me, and he ought to know. 

Billy held the job down several months working lailh- 
fully, steadily and hard, but one day a bum of a waiter 
sassed him and punched him in the jaw. Billy hit back and 
then there was a mix-up. The result was that both got fired. 
As some crockery was smashed in the fracas, the boss was 
red hot and told them both to get to hades out of there in 
a hurry. 

Billy hated to leave, for he had only been defending him- 
self, but no chance was given him to explain. He felt mighty 
blue and wretched. He shook the inhospitable dust of New 
York from his (vv[ then and took train for Philadelv)hia, 
where he soon secured a job as waiter in a restaurant. Here 
he got seven dollars a week, so that everything had happened 
i'or the best after all. He held down that job for a year and 
a half, and then lit out for the west where fortunes were to 
be made, he was told. He beat his way westward, for he had 
seut the most of his earnings home to his mother. 

The free-and-easy life of the wt>st just suited Bill\-. for 
he was seeing something new all the time, thougli he was 
not getting rich very fast. The fact is, he got sadly on the 
bum, like yours truly. 

When I run up against him Billy was in a Iiobo camp in 
Wyoming, sitting at a camp fire around which were seated 
half a dozen other bos who were enjoying themselves around 
a five-gallon coaloil can which was hanging over a brisk fire 
and in which was simmering and boiling an aromatic "mulli- 
gan." 1 happened to come along just then, and as 1 stopped 
to sniff the appetizing odor was invited to sit in and partake. 
1 i\eeded no second invitation. It was thus I got acquainted 
with Billy, and it did not take me long to preceive that he 
was not a professional 'bo, for he was different from the 
rest. We struck up an acquaintanceship then and there 
which has lasted to this day. Neither Billv nor T have struck 



21 

it very rich as ye(. but we uri> liUc-ly to some day. We came 
near it several times, so lliere is no (elliiiK what the future 
may have in store I'oi' us. 

The distance from C)Kden to Reno is several hundred 
miles by rail, and leads through Hat and lonely alkaline 
plains. We were told by other 'bos that it is a Godforsaken 
country, and so we found it. and concluded to get over it as 
qnickly as we could. We traveled by train, of course, for 
who would hike it when he can ride free? I will say that 
we never paid railroad fares, but beat our way. Why pay 
railroad fares when you don't have to? The lailroads hire a 
lot of clever accountants at a high salary to out-figure the 
people, so why should not the i)eoi)le out-figure them? I 
pause for a reply. Som(> ijeople nuiy differ, especially rail- 
loadei's. 

After leaving Ogden Hilly and I rode through some bare 
and hilly country westward until we came to where there 
were no more hills, only sage-brush-covered flat, alkaline 
prairies in which coyotes, jackass-rabbits and tarantulas 
roamed. 

We made the (rip from Ogden to Reno part of tlie way in 
a gondola, which is a sort of a flat car. boarded in at the 
sides, in which we rode as far as Winnemucca. This town is 
in Nevada and is named after a Piute Indian chief. There 
we jumped olT for rest and refreshment. 

At Winnemucca we jumped another freight train, which 
took us to Reno, the junction point for Virginia City. A rail- 
road called the Virginia and Truckee Railroad runs from Reno 
to Virginia City, a distance of about fifty-two miles, and a 
rare old road she is. Jt was built during the bonanza days in 
Virginia City and is one of the crookedest roads in the coun- 
try, for it winds up and around steep mountains to an alti- 
tude of nearly ten thousand feet and looks down on chaos. 

In the early mining days when the (^omstock lode was 
first discovered, Virginia City had a population of close on to 
50,000 and this road did a big business, but it is not doing it 



to-day, for tlio miiiiiiii l)iisiiiess in tlieso rosions is in a slate 
of cU'snetudo. 

The newoi- mining- camps of Nevada, near Virginia Cit.v, 
such as Bullfrog, Tonopah, Coldfiold. Manhattan and others, 
are doing husinoss, hut in th(>ir paimiist days they were 
nothing compared with what Virginia (Mty was. It is said 
that the Comstock lode was notiiing more tlian a mere 
pocket, hut if that he so. it was a ricli one. for hillions of 
dollars were taken from It. Along the Comstock there are 
famous mines sucli as tlie Noreross & Hale, Savage, Best «fe 
Belcher, Consolidated Virginia, Opher and others, which were 
aliv(> Willi wealth in their day. and lh{\v are still producing 
and listed on the Stock Exchange, hut they are not panning 
out as they used to do. The large and expensive mill houses 
still stand at these famous mines, and are full of cosily min- 
ing machinery hut there is little or nothing doing. 

By wagon road Virginia City is only twenty-one miles 
from Reno, and Billy and I del)ated whether we had hetter 
walk rather than beat our wa\- to \'irginia City, for the V. 
& T. R. R. did not look good to me for free riding. It is a 
narrow guage and carries only a few cars and passengers, so 
I couldn't see how we were to heat it without gettin.g bounced. 

"The only way 1 see to beat it." said I to Billy, "is to 
wait for a freight train. To beat it on a passenger is im- 
possible. What do you say, Billy, let's hike it. We can start 
early to-morrow morning and get to Virginia. City in a day." 

"There are mountains to climb, so 1 guess I'd rather ride 
than walk. Wouldn't you?" asked Billy. 

"(luess you'ie right, son: but when will we get a. train 
out of here?" 

"Search nu\ 1 dim't l<iu)w. We'll have to wait until one is 
made up; that's all I can see." 

"Let's wait then, for we've got lots more time than 
money." said 1. 

We waited in Reno two days before t'To right kind of a 
train was made up for our use. This was a freight train, 



23 

coiiiposcd of llal-cais, wnodcMis and several (liiil\.\' lillle l)()X- 
cars. 

While loiikiriK alioiil tlie depot al Ueiio we lia,(l a k<>()(I 
loolc al I lie V. ^' T. l()e()iii()tiv(!s and llicy ph^iiHCMl iih iiilKliUly. 
Tlicy were palleiiied alter t!i(! locoiiiolivciH thai, (liHl, came 
into use in llu; lonK a^i'. I'oi' tlicy liad hoop-liUc! HnioUesliirUH 
(hat wei'e I'ound as a barrel on lop, and sliiny brasH worU. A 
HiKhl, oT tlieiii called up in nie memories of the Ioiik ago, 
whon railroad cars were wiiolly dilTeienl IVom what liiey are 
to-day. What chanjAes linu' does mak<'I II did my heart 
good to see th(!Se old-linu^ eiiKiiK'S. 

In tiu! nai'row paHH('nK<'r conclies there was a smoUlnt; 
(;onipartni(Mil into which we saw soveral Indian hncUH and 
sqnaws i)ile. A bystander told nn tliat llio N<>vada Indians 
have a riglil •'• I'i'l"' on an,\ Neva<la railroad t'r(M' of cliai'K*'. 
'i'lioy ai'e privileged ciiaiactei's. We asl<e(l onr inrorniant 
why this was so, l)ul he could not inroini nH. 

From Reno lo Carson the route is ovor 1'airly lovcl HaKG-_ 
hrnsh country IhrouKli whicli tlie CarHon lUvcsr windw, and 
along which the scuinory is no groat shaUcH, hut as wo roHO 
highi;r and higher we saw IliingH. Wo crawled ))y dizzy procl- 
j)ieoH, the oar wIiooIh oroal<ing dismally as wo rounded curv(! 
after ourv(\ and pancjramas of mountain l(jps hogan t(j untold 
thoniK(!lves lo oni' ga/,o. IJilly and 1 held our bi'eath some- 
tiinoB, thinking that the cars, ouiselves and th(! whole outfit 
would tak<' a tundili' down some stoc-p inolin<' lor Kom(! of the 
abysses woi'e awful, bul we landed in V'ii'ginia. ('ily wilhont 
mishap. 

This fiolightful burg is |)orc;hed on a mounlain-Kid(! that 
looms up ovei- eight thousand (eel high and has tlirof! or four 
streets one; al)ove the other, cut out from the rock alruig the 
mountain-Hide, acnt. of t(!iia(;o like, and one can slidi! down 
from one street to another or descend by means of Htalrways. 
The main street at one time was a line; one, for I ho drive- 
way is broad and the wooden sidewalkH amide and traffic 
along it was lively, but to-day the; sidewalks arc; aj)t to (ly up 
and hit you if you are not careful, and the driveway is in 



24 

bad condition. Few vehicles roll over the driveway these 
days and the wooden shacks along the sidewalks are apt to 
tumble down if you look at them too hard. 

On this street stands the International Hotel wherein 
Mackey, Fair, Flood, O'Brien, and other of the bonanza kings 
stopped, but to-day this famous caravansery is a four-bit 
house run by a Chinaman and smells strongly of decay. 

As it is situated so far up on the mountain height, when 
the wind blows in Virginia City it blows with a vengeance, 
and makes mighty melancholy music. It sweeps through the 
dilapitated old shacks and moans, groans, shrieks and 
whistles in a way to make a fellow feel as if he'd lost his 
best friend. When Billy and I heard one of these mountain 
zephyrs blowing we got the blues so bad that we had to take 
a drink to cheer up. 

But what fine scenery can be seen from Virginia City! 
, Bare and lonely mountain peaks extend in all directions fur- 
ther than the eye could reach, and they form an awe-inspiring 
spectacle. Many of the peaks are higher than the one on 
which Virginia City is perched, and all are linked together 
in a chain. Here one gets an idea of the vastness and the 
immensity of nature. 

On the street below us we saw a number of Indian bucks 
who were seated on the ground at the edge of a blanket, 
playing cards. A squaw was sitting in the game, too, and 
was as keen a gambler as the rest. 

There is still a little mining done in Virginia City these 
days, and all (old there may be about 5,000 people in the town. 
Nearly all the miners are Cornishmen from Cornwall, Eng- 
land, and they seem to have a monopoly of the mining busi- 
ness. They are a rough and ready set, rugged, honest, but 
clannish. They are hearty in their ways and liberal, if they 
like you, but if they do not like you, you might as w^ell pull 
up stakes and go elsewhere. Billy, being A Britisher, took 
to them as naturally as do fleas to a purp, but he couldn't 
get a job for us, for the idle miners were to have first 
chance. That let us out. Billy's countrymen did the next 



25 

best thing for us though, they gave us some money to buy 
grub with. As there were no prospects for us in Virginia City, 
we only remained there a few days and then beat our way 
down to Carson where we put in a day or two. 



CHAPTER II. 
HO FOR CALIFORNIA 

Carsson is the capital of Nevada and at one time was a 
lively place but when the Comstock mines began to peter out, 
it began to dwindle the same as Virginia City, and much of its 
glory departed, but it is still rather an interesting little 
town, and full of whole-souled people, like Virginia City. 

My little partner and I put in a day or two very profitably 
in Carson viewing the state capital building, the mint, and 
the railroad round-house from the outside. Though the town 
is rather pretty the surroundings are not, for the views seem 
quite bare and desolate. We got out of there as soon as we 
could jump a train for Reno, which took about two days. 
We got to Reno in good shape and remained in that town a 
day or two also. 

Reno is a sporty little town, lively and wide awake and 
right up-to-date. It was a town in which gambling and di- 
vorces flourished, and at one time was lively enough to suit 
any one. Neither Billy nor I gambled, for we hadn't the 
wherewithal, nor did either of us need a divorce just then, 
so we did not patronize those two home industries. We took 
in the gambling joints, though, and some other places, which 
I will describe more fully later on. 

There was a hobo camp near the Truckee River, 
under a wagon bridge, where we made our headquarters 
while in Reno. The camp was conveniently located about 
a half mile east of town near the cattle corral, down a bank 
alongside the river, and though so near to town it was a 



2G 

quiet, secluded spot. It was well patronized by hoboes, for the 
place is well known all over the country to the knights of the 
road, who make for it as soon as they strike town. We had 
supper there and slept there every night while in Reno. 
Around the campfire those chilly November evenings we sat 
and yarned after supper, relating our experiences, talking 
politics and conversing on matters in general. Hoboes like 
to discuss politics, and they seem to know a whole lot about 
it. They take a deep interest in governmental affairs, but 
they do like to knock. Seldom do they boost. They interlard 
their language with strong oaths usually, and foul epithets, 
and to listen to them you would think they were orators in 
disguise. They believe in government ownership of rail- 
roads; that the rich are too rich and the poor too poor; that 
there ought to be a division of wealth, and equality for all. 
The world owes them a living, they declare with heat, and 
they are going to get it somehow\ Not by work, though. 
Work is no part of their creed, for they can get along fine 
without it. 

There were four or five knights of the road who made 
this camp their headquarters during our stay, exclusive of 
ourselves, which was just about enough to make things 
sociable. Too many are undesirable in a camp for obvious 
reasons. The main reason is that the "bulls'" (police) are apt 
to get on to them. 

The second evening during our stay while seated around 
a cheery blaze and yarning, one of the fellows mentioned in- 
cidentally that a young fellow who had been beating his way 
with a partner had been run over by a freight train that 
morning and killed. The poor fellow was only eighteen or 
nineteen years of age and had met a horrid death. The other 
'bos cracked jokes about it in a heartless way and were not 
impressed by such an awful occurence at all. Billy and I, 
though, who had hearts in our bosoms, were shocked and 
grieved. The accident happened two or three miles east of 
Sparks, a suburb of Reno, a railroad division point of the 
Southern Pacific, and the spot was not very far away from 



where we then sat. Wh'le the boys were talking about it I 
composed the following touching little poem in memoriam: 

On the plains of old Nevada 

One sad, November day, 
A hapless 'bo lay dying 

Beside the right of way. 

A freight car hard had struck him 

As he tried to take a ride; 
He missed his hold and stumbled, 

And the car crushed in his side. 

His partner knelt beside him 

Whilst thus he stricken lay, 
And listened to his raving — 

'Twas this he heard him say: 

"I guess I'm done for, pardner — 
I guess I am all in — 
My body's achin' turble, 
'N my lamps is gitten' dim. 

"I'm goin' ter join der angels. 

An' round and round I'll fly; 
I wonder if dere's handouts 

Up dere in de sky? 

"I kinder liked the chippies, 

'N I was stuck on gin. 
But Peter will be good to me — 

I'm sure he'll let me in. 

"I wasn't no worse ner others, 

To be good I'd often try; 
Oh, Lordy, do be good to me, 

Please don't let me die! 



28 

"Are all de angels naked — 

Don't dey wear no clothes? 
Maybe dey don't need them — 

Dere all good, I s'pose. 

"Good-bye, my dear old pardner, 

I guess I'll have ter go; 
I feel dat I must leave you, 

My time is up, I know." 

Then the poor yong fellow 

Began to gasp for breath; 
His face began to whiten, 

And he stiffened out in death. 

His partner knelt beside him — 

O'er the strong frame, stricken low — 

And emptied all his pockets, 

Which was not wrong, you know. 

For if he had not done so 

They'd have been stolen by some 'bo; 

He then made tracks for Reno, 
And then due west did blow. 

I showed this sad little poem to Billy- and the rest of the 
gang, and they said no poet could beat it, which made me 
feel proud. Some one said I ought to be called the Hobo 
Poet, but I am not looking for distinction. There are too 
many hobo poets roaming around the country now. There is 
A No. 1, for instance, whoso autograph can be seen on walls, 
fences, barns, abandoned shacks, water-closets, and other 
public places all over the country, from New York to San 
Francisco, and this distinguished individual also wrote and 
published a thin volume of poetry and history relating his 
adventures. A No. 1 is a pretty fresh aleck, for he has 
boldly traced his name in very large letters in some placjs 



29 

where he should not have done so. Some people are just 
laying tor A No. 1, and if they ever lay hands on him there'll 
be a dead hobo. 

Then there is Denver Red, another bold and reckless 
chap, who is well known all over the country for his good- 
heartedness, recklessness, pugnacity, and willingness to 
oblige. 

Sheeny Ike from New York is also more or less known. 
Then there is Nutsey McGraw, McGinty, the Fade-away Kid, 
Weary Bill, Pittsburg Fat, and quite a few otiier celebrities, 
all of whom have gained more or less renown for some rea- 
son or othoi'. 

II was a long freight train made up partly of empty 
cattle cars that dragged Billy and I out of Reno one fine, 
crisp November morning. The car was roofed over and 
boarded in at the sides, had open slats to let in plenty of air 
and to give one an opportunity to view the scenery. This 
train started just a little before daylight, and it was pretty 
cold riding for awhile, but bye-and-bye the sun came out and 
gave the promise of being a fine day. Billy and I never trav- 
eled with other 'bos, but always kept to ourselves. Our 
motto was "two is company and three is a crowd," so thai 
whenever anyone else tried to thrust himself in upon us we 
gave him, or them, the slip when an opportunity offered. 

Reno is near the state line of California, in the extreme 
western part of Nevada, so that soon after passing Verdi we 
were in California. From here on the scenery began to grow 
so beautiful that we could not help looking at it. It was an 
uphill climb, the train winding its way, snake-like, around 
and around and upward, the two engines attached to the 
train away up in , front, snorting and coughing like good fel- 
lows. It was hard work for them, no doubt, dragging such a 
long train up the mountains, but that wasn't worrying us 
any. We just made ourselves comfortable, sat down on our 
blankets, smoked our pipes, chatted and gazed at the scenery. 
We came by a large paper mill near which there was a big 
pond of pure, clear water that was probably used in the man- 



30 

ufacture of paper. Further along in the gorge we observed 
some huge ice houses with ponds near them. These ice 
houses supply California with much of its natural ice, for, 
except in the higher altitudes of the Sierra-Nevada Moun- 
tains, no ice or snow falls or forms anywhere in California. 

What struck us more forcibly than anything else was 
that the leaves on the trees in the mountainous part of Cali- 
fornia were not turning in their autumn tints at all, but were 
as fresh, green and luxuriant as they are in the springtime. 
This surprised us. There were fir, cedar, pine, magnolia, 
buckeye, Cottonwood, oak, redwood, and a host of other trees, 
and a wealth of shade and foliage everywhere. 

Say, Billy," remarked I to my chum, "this looks like 
God's country! Did you ever see anything like it?" 

"Can't say that I did. But I don't see any towns oi" 
houses or cities in this blooming country." 

"No, it's a vast solitude, and I wouldn't want to live in 
it. I'd get the horrors in no time." 

Up, up, we went, the scenery becoming tiner and wilder 
at every turn of the wheels. The engines must have been 
having a mighty hard time of it, the way they coughed and 
hissed, making mighty slow progress. As we were in no 
particular hurry, though, we did not mind this. We were not 
due anywhere at any particular time. What we did was to 
enjoy ourselves, and I can truthfully say that I was never 
more exhilirated in my life than I was just then, though I 
did not have a dollar in my pocket. Riches do not bring 
happiness. One can be poor and still be happy. 

Up, up, up, we went, the car wheels creaking and the 
scenery growing wilder at every turn. We could look down 
into abysses now which made our hearts sink into our socks, 
for we feared that the train might jump the track and tumble 
into some abyss. We held our breath, for had such a thing 
happened there wouldn't be any more story lo tell. 

But up, still up, we climbed. Ye gods, what enchanting 
views at every turn! What sublime scenery! These are 



scenes no painter can paint or writer portray properly. Tliey 
must be seen to be appreciated. 

But husky chaps lilve Billy and 1 could not live on pure 
mountain air and scenery, for we had not eaten anything 
since the night before. In fact, the bracing mountain air had 
helped to give us a huge appetite, and we felt that the inner 
man must be appeased somehow. 

"Say, Billy, how would a nice fat goose stuffed with 
chestnuts go now?" asked I, to banter my partner. ? 

"Aw, go to ," snapped Billy. 

"And how about a pie? Which kind do you like best — 
apple, mince, custard, squash or pumpkin?" 

"Squash or pumpkin?" scornfully sniffed Billy; "those are 
good enough for Americans, but in my country they feed 
squash and pumpkins to the pigs." 

"Do they?" retorted I. "Well, then, they have darn poor 
judgment, for there aint anything more scrumptious than 
squash or inimpkin pie. And some people know how to make 
them, too; believe me. Yum! Yum!" 

"Aw, get to out of here with your squash and 

pumpkin pies! Give me a thrup-penny pork pie or a six penny 
one; there's eating for you, lad!" 

Billy broke out into English occasionally, when he grew 
excited; then it was i)lain to be seen that he was a Britisher. 

The stations on the Sierra-Nevada Mountains are few and 
far between, and usually consist of a single shack, in which 
the ticket agent hibernates or "isolates." One sees plenty of 
trees and scenery in the Sierras, but few human beings, for 
these altitudes are vast but silent. 

In due course our train stopped at a village called 
Truckee. Here Billy and I hopped off in a hurry to look for 
something to eat. I had a few dimes in my pocket, so I 
walked into a grocery store, bought two loaves of bread and 
then returned to Billy, who was minding our blankets. We 
indulged in a feed that was gigantic. Billy ate a whole loaf 
of bread and a huge hunk of cheese, and so did I, but still 
we were hungry. Had we had more we could have eaten more. 



After eating we felt that we would like to have something 
wet to wash down the food with, so I hinted to Billy that a 
schooner of beer would not go so bad. He agreed with me 
instantly, whereupon we went in quest of a saloon. 

Truckee is a town of about seven or eight hundred in- 
habitants, 1 should judge, and consists of a main street, 
which is situated opposite the railroad track and runs parallel 
with it. There are one or two hotels in the burg, a few 
general merchandise stores, several restaurants, a dozen or 
more saloons, a barber shop or two, one or two butcher shops, 
a large planing mill and lumber yard, and a raw other estab- 
lishments. All the buildings are of wood, and seem ancient 
and primitive. 

Across the way, on the other side of the railroad track, 
flows the Truckee River, which here is a s.vvift-flowing moun- 
tain stream that is full of speckled beauties in the shape of 
mountain trout. Almost everyone in Truckee goes a-fishing 
occasionally, for the stream is open to all. 

Not far from Truckee is Lake Tahoe, one of the most 
beautiful mountain streams in the world. It is GOO feet deep, 
300 miles in area, and over G.OOO feet above sea level. This 
lake is a favorite summer resort, for it is deliciously cool 
and shady in the summer time and is studded with villas 
which are owned by well-to-do city people. 

Truckee itself is the last railroad division point in Cali- 
fornia going eastward. It is a lumber camp of much activity 
in the summer time, and when the mills are running the 
town is rough, wild 'and woolly. Then gambling, drinking, 
dancing and other joys are in order. 

Billy and I sauntered slowly along the main street taking 
in the sights, and it took us about five minutes to size up the 
town. We noticed a stairway leading down a basement over 
which was a sign which read, "Benny's Gray Mule." Billy 
and I started down the stairway, and when we got down a 
few steps we noticed that "Benny's Gray Mule" was a saloon 
that had gone out of business. From the appearance of 
things it had been shut up a long time, which was lamentable, 



lor a place wilh such a boautirii! iiaiiio ohkIiI Io iuive tlirived. 

We went iii) the steps again and hunted lor a place thai 
was open and ready for business. We did not have I'ar to 
look, for almost every other establishment was a drinkini; 
place. 

We entered the wide, swinging doors of a pretentiously- 
named saloon, "The Palace,'' which was loomy and capa- 
cious. On the left hand side as we entered stood a bar, and 
opposite it were roulette and gaming tables. At the extreoie 
rear of the place was a lunch counter with high stools, and a 
bill of fare was painted on the wall in large letters. This is 
wliat it |)roclaimed: 

Plain Steak 25 cents 

Rib Steak ;ji-, (.puts 

Porterhouse jr, f.^^nts 

-Oysters in any style r^{) cents 

Hani and Rggs 2ri cents 

Bacon and Eggs i i 2.") cents 

Hamburg Steak 25 cents 

1 jiver and Bacon 2,-) cencs 

Sausage 2.-) cents 

Hot Cakes and Coffee If) cents 

Pork Chops 25 cents 

Lamb Chops 25 cents 

Mutton Chojis 25 cents 

The place seemed to us. to be a i)i('t(y lougii .joint, but 
Billy and I leisurely meandered toward iii(> bar wiicre 1 or- 
dered two schooners. The barkeeper was in iiis shirt-sleeves 
and had an evil-looking mug. 

"Well gents, what'il it be?" asked the barkeeper in a l)usi- 
ness-like way, wiping off the bar with a cloth, as he spolce. 

"Al)out two of the biggest sciioou(M-s nou'vi^ got will 
about hit us right," answered i. Without another word the 
wet-goods dispenser grabbed up two big glasses, stepped to 
a beer-keg and filled them to the brim with beer. After the 
glasses had been set before us I threw a dime down on the 
counter in payment. 



'■"What's that for?" asked the barkeeper, with au ugly 
scowl. 

"Why for the beer, of course," answered I. 

"Come again, pardner. All drinks are ten cents here." 

"You don't say!' said I. "Well, to keep peace in the 
family, here's another dime: I didn't know what the prices 
were; excuse me." 

"All right," says barkeeper, much mollified. He swept 
the money nonchalantly into the till. We gulped down the 
beer which tasted good. After we had disposed of the beer 
we looked about us a little and a gambler seated at a table 
called out enticingly: "Come and beat the gambler, gentle- 
men! The play is made!" The bait was alluring, but we 
didn't bite, for we had no money. 

There was not much going on in the way of gambling 
at that hour of the day; the most of it is done at night. Then 
everything runs at full blast, the roulette wheels spin, the 
crap games and the stud-horse poker games are well patro- 
nized. Billy and I concluded to continue on our journey down 
the line outside, so we left the place. We noticed that our 
train was still there. A great deal of switching was being 
done but the train would soon be made up. Our cattle-car 
was to continue her journey we noticed, so we deemed it 
best to keep an eye on her. After a good long wait the train 
was made up and stood ready on the track for departure. 
When she pulled out we were safe aboard. 

Continuing our journey, we still climbed upward and 
came to a line of snowsheds. 

Wonderful structures these are for they are about thirty 
feet high, I should judge, and in some places where there is 
a double track or station, they are a great deal higher. 

Although it was a bright, clear day outside, there was a 
sort of twilight inside the sheds, so that we could see but 
little of the scenery, which was a great disappointment to us. 
At a station called Blue Canyon, we noticed some small 
trees standing, wiiich had deep green leaves and golden yel- 
low balls shining among them. 



35 

"Say, Billy, look over there, will you!" exclaimed 1, point- 
ing; "see them yellow balls hanging on the trees? 1 wonder 
what they are?" 

Billy gazed fixedly, when suddenly he exclaimed: "Windy, 
them's oranges, as sure as we're alive!" 

"Go on, Billy; what do you know about oranges? Oranges 
don't grow on trees." 

"They don't eh; what do they grow on; l)ushes do you 
think?" 

"Search me. Billy. 1 never saw any oranges growing be- 
fore. 

"Did you ever see any growing behind?" sarcasticaUy 
retorted Billy. "I wish this bally old train would stop so as 
we could get a few." 

Billy was getting excited, I could plainly see. Unfor- 
tunately the train did not slop here for refreshments, so we 
could not get any oranges. This was too bad for we were get- 
ting hungry again, the mountain air being responsible for 
such a condition. We were pretty near broke though, and 
would be unable to buy any more food, or drinks either. 

In a little while we stopped at a station called Dutch 
Flat, but there was no town in its vicinity, at least we could 
see none. But anyway we hopped off for refreshments, not 
caring whether the train would leave us behind or not. We 
had to eat. 

Near the station there was a Chinese village, we noticed, 
and we concluded to try our luck here for a hand-out. The 
village was composed of one street only, at either side of 
which stood a number of ramshackle huts, and as we moved 
along an odor of opium smote the air. There was a Chinese 
laundry in the burg which convinced us that there was a 
Melican man's town not far away. 

There was a general merchandise store in the i)lace, too, 
conducted by Chinese, which seemed neat enough, but a mixed 
odor of stale dried fish and other Chinese comestibles came 
from it that was anything but savory. 



36 

The advent of Billy and I in the village was heralded by 
several homely-looking canines v^ho made advances toward 
us that were not friendly, but we walked on slowly and paid 
no attention to them. 

The warnings of the dogs aroused the inhabitants who 
came to their doors to see what the row was about. I strode 
up to one Chinaman who was standing at his doorway and 
informed him that we were hungry, and asked him if he could 
give us something to eat. 

"No sabee!" replied he instantly, and called out some- 
thing in Chinese to his fellow celestials, who put on frown- 
ing faces. T stepped up to one or two of the celestials and 
asked for a hand-out, but it was "no sabee," with all of them. 
They had all resolved evidently to turn us down. I concluded 
that we were not going to get anything to eat in that rotten 
village, so I searched through all my pockets until I found a 
dime. "Billy, see if you can't dig up something!" entreated 1. 
Billy dug down and brought forth a lone nickel, 

"I kept this nickel for emergencies. Windy, but this is 
an emergency, we can't starve, you know!" ruefully declared 
Billy. 

"True for you, kid. I'm going to try my luck with these 
Chinks once more; if they won't give us something, maybe 
they'll sell us something. Darn the mean, homely-looking 
crowd anyway!" 

I rapped at the last door in the village but no one re- 
sponded. I rapped louder, whereupon a thin and aged celes- 
tial, with gray hair came to the door and asked, "what you 
wantee?" 

"Something to eat, Charlie," responded I, showing him 
fifteen cents; "what you got?" 

"No gotee anything; only licee (rice) and poke chop, 
(pork chop)." 

"Sell us fifteen cents worth of pork chop, will you? We're 
very hungry and want something to eat." 

This appeal, as it was backed by money, overcame the 
scruples of the bowed old Chinaman, who went into his domi- 



37 

cile and soon returned with two nice pork chops, which he 
wrapped in a newspaper for us. 

"You sabee cookee?" asked the old man. 

"Oh yes, me heap sabee; me cook before," responded f. 

"All lightee," (right), grunted the aged celestial, at the 
same time putting a little salt and pepper into a piece of 
paper and handing it to me. These were for the purpose of 
seasoning the meat. 

We thanked the old man heartily for his kindness and 
then sauntered off leisurely to find a likely spot where we 
could cook our meat. Not far away was a secluded hill with 
plenty of brush and twigs near it and here we camped. 

We made a roaring fire and toasted the chops by means 
of long sticks which we held over the blaze, and so intent 
were we in our cooking operations that we were not noticing 
what was going on around us. I happened to look up and, 
my goodness! the whole country seemed on fire. 

This was the dry season of the year in California, for no 
rain to speak of had fallen for six months or more, and all 
the vegetation around us was as dry as a chip. The bushes 
near our camp had caught fire unperceived by us, and the 
fire now had spread, igniting the dead grass, leaves, bushes 
and everything else that was at all inflammable. 

We jumped up badly frightened and ran away, forgetting 
our chops in our excitement. We made for the railroad 
tracks in a hurry, which seemed the safest place from fire, 
for there was nothing inflammable near by. 

The Chinamen in the village had seen the dense clouds 
of smoke arising and had discerned at once what the trouble 
was. They emitted cries of alarm and excitement and in a 
jiffy came running u\) with pails, oil-cans and all kinds of 
other things that would hold water. They doused the flames 
and also tried to beat them out with wetted sacks, chatter- 
ing and shrieking like monkeys in the meanwhile. Billy and 
I returned and grabbed up wet sacks, too, and helped to try 
and subdue the conflagration, but it had got beyond control. 
It was spreading in every direction. The Chinese prevented 



it from destroying their village, but they could not stop it 
in other directions. Such a running, shouting, cussing and 
yelling there was. Everyone seemed to be excited, including 
my pardner and I. 

While rushing back to the village, to wet the sacks,' I 
heard a big commotion in the Chinese laundryman's back 
yard. I wondered whether his place had caught ^Ire, for he 
was yelling to beat the band. I looked in to see what the trou- 
ble was. The Chinaman's wash-lines, which had clothes hang- 
ing on them to dry, were being kicked down by his horse who 
was terrified by the flames. 

The horse was cavorting with tail up and head down, 
snorting and squealing, and trying to escape from the place 
where he was tethered. He had been well-tied though and 
escape was not easy. His boss, the laundryman, was yelling 
and swearing at him in Chinese to make him let up, but the 
frightened creature either did not or would not understand. 
His heels flew around pretty lively and kicked down every- 
thing within reach. His boss kept at a respectful distance 
from him. After kicking down nearly all the wash-lines, he 
gave one more mighty effort, and this time pulled up the stake 
to which he had been tethered and made off, with his head 
down and tail up, rushing right into the flames with the rope 
and stake trailing after him. You ought to have heard that 
Chinaman swear! Wow! I sneaked away so that he would 
not see me. Had he seen me, murder might have been done. 
I joined Billy and told him it was about time for us to be 
moving. 

Our train had not yet gone, for it was still standing on p. 
siding, waiting for another train to pass, so in we climbed 
into our cattle-car once more. We pulled out our pipes, 
smoked, chatted and laughed aloud over our recent experi- 
ence, regretting only that we were hungry, for our chops, 
which had dropped into the fire were probably burned to a 
crisp by this time. We must have been laughing pretty 
loudly for suddenly a head was thrust through the open car 



39 

doorway and a grim visage confronted us. It was I lie brake- 
man's. 

What you two fellows doin' there?" snarled he. 

"Only taking a little ride," responded Billy meekly. 

"Where to?" demanded brakey. 

"Only down the line a little way," again responded Billy 
meekly. 

"What are you riding on?" Brakey wanted to know. 

"On a freight train," innocently responded Billy. 

I guffawed, for I knew Billy had given the wrong answer, 
but brakey never cracked a smile. He didn't know whether 
Billy was joshing or bantering him. 

"Got any money or tickets?" asked brakey in a stern, 
non-commital way. 

"Not a bean," answered Billy. 

"Get off this train, then, and be quick about it," thundered 
brakey. "Don't let me catch you here again. If I do, I'll 
make it hot for you ! " 

We jumped off much crestfallen for we had lost a fine 
opportunity to ride. We had been too gay and laughing too 
loud, and that's what we got for it. It revealed our presence 
to the train-men. Well, there was no help for it, so off we 
got. Had we had a little money we might have squared mat- 
ters with brakey, perhaps, for some brakemen don't mind 
earning a little easy money on the side, but we were broke 
and had nothing to offer. When brakey asked what we were 
riding on, he wanted to know whether we had any money or 
anything else in the shape of an equivalent to offer for a ride. 
I had "given up" before during my peregrinations, to brake- 
men, but neither Billy nor I could give when we had nothing. 
This brakeman might not have been a bad fellow, at all, not- 
withstanding his gruff manner and he probal)ly was talking 
business, only Billy was still comparatively green at beating 
it, and did not understand brakey 's way or his speech. He 
was learning, though, and I let him learn and kept posting him. 
I was an older hand at the business than he and knew the 
ropes better. 



CHAPTER III. 
AS REGARDS HOBOES. 

The train pulled out without us and we regarded her rue- 
fully. "Billy, what's the next thing on the progranune. We're 
ditched," said I. 

"I suppose all we can do is to wait lor the next train, but 
I hate to be seen around this place for some of the Chinamen 
might get on to us.'' 

"Oh, don't you worry about that. Them fellers won't 
hurt a white man in this country. Tf we were in their own 
country they might do something to us, for they're pretty 
numerous there. You stay here while I go up to the depot 
and ask the agent when the next train will come along." 

Billy walked off into the brush with our blankets, whilst I 
leisurely walked up to the depot to buzz the agenr. 

The agent was a slim young man with a thin face, black 
moustache and active manner. He was sitting in his office 
all alone as I entered, telegraphing. 1 asked him, when he got 
through telegraphing, if he would please tell me when the 
next train was due. He sized me up, and probably judged 
from the cut of my jib that I was a Wandering Willie. 

"Freight or passenger?" asked he, in rather a bantering 
way. 

"Freight," replied I, in a kind of half-hearted manner. 

"Don't know, pardner. There may be something going 
down the hill about two or three o'clock tomorrow morning." 

"Whew," said I to myself; "that's a long time to wait." 
I thanked the agent and left the office. 

"Billy, I guess we're in for it," remarked I to my chum 
after I had rejoined him. "There'll be no train until some 
time tomorrow morning. It'll be a long wait."' 

"How about grub; are we going to starve?" 



41 

"Looks like it. kid. We're both Ijroke and I guess we 
don't want (o go to (hat Chinese village for more grub, do 
we?" 

"Well, hardly," responded Billy. 

Luckily we had i)lenty of tobacco with us, so we smoked 
to ward off the pangs of hunger. We had been in such a situ- 
ation before, many a time, for, to bear the slings and arrows 
of misfortune is part of the hobo's life, and must be borne 
without flinching. Hoboing may be a i)icnic sometimes but 
not always. There are a few difficulties to contend with, 
such as going unwashed and unkempt for a while; a lack of 
opportunity to change one's underwear, socks or clothes; 
irregular meals; traveling at all hours of the day or night; 
using out-of-the-way sleeping-places; dust in summer and frost 
in winter; and a few oIIum- trifles of that sort; not to mention 
bulls, fly-cops, etc. 

After the shades of night had fallen, we spread out our 
blankets underneath some bushes close to the railroad track, 
where we could keep an ear open during our sleep for ap- 
proaching trains. Wandering Willies are awfully acute in 
that respect, for no matter how sound their slumbers may be, 
they will awake nine times out of ten in time to catch a train. 
Unless a 'bo is too badly boozed he will never miss a train. 

While on the subject of 'boes, let me give a brief general 
description of them. Decent people in general have no use 
for them, and don't like to see them around, but every one 
who hits the pike is not necessarily a 'bo. I would like to 
demonstrate this if 1 may be permitted to do so. 

First of all, there is the honest workin.gman who travels 
from place to place in search of work, but who has not the 
wherewithal to pay his fare. He has earned some money 
while at work, but he has spent it in some manner best known 
to himself. The distance between towns out west are great 
and railroad fares high, (rarely less than three cents a mile 
and from that up), so that a poor fellow who wants'to get 
away anywhere has to pay well for the privilege. 



42 

There is another class of wanderer who travels by rail 
without helping to fill the railroad coffers, because they have 
a constitutional aversion to giving up to railroads. The rail- 
road owners are highway robbers, they say; they are thieves, 
bloated bond-holders, blood-suckers, purlniners of the peo- 
ple's substance and are constantly getting richer whilst the 
poor are getting poorer, so why encourage them in their ne- 
farious practices? 

A third class of wanderers is composed of city bred chaps 
who have had a hard time of it in the city and who want to 
get out into the country or somewhere else where they can 
better their fortune. Competition is pretty keen in the over- 
crowded cities which has brought them low. They have 
striven and failed and fallen into a rut from which it is pretty 
hard to pull out. Necessity or some one or something . 
finally drives them from the city, so they wander from place 
to place until they find something to do. These are not 'bos, 
but poor and respectable fellows who crave work. A great 
many of this class of wanderers are always on the go, and when 
they hit a hobo-camp they are glad to join it for company's 
sake, for their lot is a lonely one and a hard one. 

A fourth class is made up of well educated fellows who 
have held good positions, but are down and out from drink 
or other misfortune. There are a great many fellows of this 
sort wandering about and they have sunk to a pretty low ebb, 
and probably they never will rise again. 

A fifth class is composed of men and boys who are strand- 
ed, but who want to get from one place to another. They 
haven't the means to pay railroad fares, but must get to their 
destination somehow and don't know the ways of the road. 

In fact, there are all kinds of people beating their way 
every day in the year, so that there is hardly a train of any 
kind that is not carrying a dead-head of some kind. It re- 
quires constant vigilance on the part of the train-men to hold 
their own with beats, dead-heads and unfortunates. 

The most numerous class of wanderers I have not yet 
alluded to. "Professionals," with a big P. These are the 



43 

lads who give all the Wandering Willies a bad reputation, for 
it is difficult to distinguish them from their betters. 

The professional 'bo is a "never-sweat," the fellow who 
would run away from work if it were offered him. He is a 
thief, vagabond, low-lived fellow who will do anything except 
work. His parents probably were not decent, so neither is 
he, and he glories in evil doing. This is the class of fellows 
who people the jails and penitentiaries, and, who, when their 
time expires, hit the pike again and travel over the country. 

To show how these people conduct themselves and re- 
gard each other, I will relate an incident or two in my career, 
which may not have been very creditable to me, but it is true. 
I wish to say right here, though, that I have not always asso- 
ciated with vagabonds, but with better people, and that I 
would not like to be considered worse than I am. I have been 
on the bum, yes, I don't deny that; but it was from necessity 
and not from choice. Billy's folks were respectable and so 
were mine, and for that very reason we took to each other, 
for both of us perceived that we were not hardened criminals, 
and that we were above the crowd we sometimes were com- 
pelled to mingle with. I am not sorry that I did mingle with 
the 'boes, for I have learned a great deal about human nature 
in that way, and I think that the poet Pope stated the truth 
when he declared, that, "the proper study for mankind is 
man." It sometimes may be a malodorous and insectivorous 
study, but not a bad one to be familiar with, anyway. Man in 
all the "walks of life is worth knowing. They are evil-doers 
and celebrated criminals, some of them, and the celebrated 
ones are usually regarded with awe and admiration by the 
small fry. 

To come back to my liver and bacon though, (I like liver 
and bacon just as well as mutton for a change). In company 
with several other knights of the road I was traveling along 
the plains of western Nebraska one fine summer's evening 
and the weather was so beautiful that we were all in gay 
spirits, talking aloud, singing or whistling. The stars were 
out and a new crescent moon hung in the sky, a sofl delicious 



44 

breeze was blowing over the wide prairies and filled me full 
of romance. Fact, I assure you. It was a night fit for love, 
sti'atagem or spoils, and it seems that one of my companions 
had a business eye open for the spoils. 

As we walked along the railroad track past a little rail- 
road station, he espied a fat valise standing solitary and alone 
on the platform of the station near the track, and it appealed 
to him. The ticket agent was in his office and the owner of 
the grip was nowhere to be seen, as he was not in the wait- 
ing-room or on the platform. Nor was any one else in sight 
either. 

"Watch me swipe that valise," said the 'bo. 

He walked leisurely into the waiting-room as if he were 
a passenger, looked around in a casual way, and as he saw 
no one about, he picked up the valise as if he were its owner, 
and leisurely walked away with it, following us who had pre-* 
ceded him along the track. 

After he had joined us, we walked faster and finally 
broke into a run, for we did not know how soon the valise 
would be missed or how soon a hue and cry would be raised 
about it. After running what to us seemed a good long dis- 
tance we moved into the brush some distance away from the 
railroad and inspected our find. 

In this valise were a suit of clothes of good material, 
shirts, collars, underwear, toilet articles and other things, 
which showed that the owner was intending to take a long 
trip. The 'boes weren't caring for that though. They were 
delighted with the coup. The contents of the grip were 
divided among us but I noticed that one or two of the 'boes 
would not accept any article, saying that they would take no 
chances of getting pinched. I was pretty green at that time 
so I accepted a vest which was handed me, and put it on. It 
fitted me well. Had I been arrested with the vest on me, I 
might have been sent up for several years for burglary, al- 
though I hadn't a thing to do with the robbery and did not 
advise it or take any active part in it. I accepted Ihe stolen 



45 

goods though, and that fact would have been sufficient to have 
condemned me had we been caught. 

What a fool I was! What chances I took! Never would 
I have committed such a crime or taken any part in it. 

Another time 1 was walking along the track going west- 
,ward— that was a few nights after the incident just related — 
when I espied a cheery fire down a bank near the tracks, 
around which was seated about a dozen 'boes. When I drew 
near, they immediately took notice, for they are leery of 
strangers and have a wholesome regard for the bulls (peace 
officers), and are always ready to scatter at the least alarm. 
It did not take them long to size me up, for they could tell at 
a glance that I was on the road. They can detect a friend 
from a foe almost instinctively, though they do get fooled 
sometimes. 

I stood still along the track regarding them, after bidding 
them good evening. 

"Come down and join us, pardner!" spoke up one fellow. 

T did not wait for a second invitation for I had been 
traveling all alone all day and was glad to have some one to 
speak to. 1 went down. I sat down beside the genial blaze, 
and after having answered questions as to where 1 came from, 
where I was going, etc., the spokesman of the party gave his 
attention to other matters. From hints let drop, I learned 
that he was a big gun, a cracksman, a high-up criminal, and 
noticed that he was regarded with awe and admiration by the 
other fellows. This man appointed himself general-in-chief 
or captain of the camj), without opposition from anyone, and 
gave orders that were readily obeyed by all. Nobody dreamed 
of opposing him. That would have been disloyalty and pun- 
ishable. 

He speedily showed that he was an able commander and 
knew how to handle men. As there was nothing to eat in 
camp, the commander had an idea that a good feed would 
not hurt any one, least of all himself; accordingly he com- 
manded one 'bo to "get to out of there and rustle up some 

bread." To another he said, "get out and rustle up some 



4G 

meat." A third was commanded to "bring in onions and any 
other old thing in the shape of vegetables." A fourth was 
told that "pepper and salt would come in handy." I was not 
asked to go for anything; I don't know why. 

Bye-and-bye the 'boes returned from their errands. The 
fellow who had been told to get meat, sauntered in with a leg 
of mutton on his shoulder. The captain's eyes glistened with 
satisfaction at this and he asked his subordinate how he had 
come by the meat. 

"Oh, it was hangin' up kinder lonesome-like in front of a 
butcher shop, so I walked off wid it when I got er chanst.' 
That was all he said. 

The fellow who was told to get out and rustle up bread, 
came back with several loaves. Where he got them he did 
not say nor was he asked. The chap who was sent for vege- 
tables came back empty-handed, whereupon he and the boss 
of the camp had a heart-to-heart talk in which the boss did 
most of the talking. 

"Where's all them vegetables I told you to get?" thun- 
dered he. 

"I tried hard but I couldn't get none," was the humble 
response. 

"I don't think you tried at all, you lying son-of-a-gun, ' 
irately cried the chief. "Get out again and try your luck. 
How are we going to make a mulligan without fixings, can 
you answer that, you lazy son-ofa-gun!" 

"1 did try and couldn't get none," whined the "bo. 

"Tried nothing," thundered the boss. "You're too lazy 

to get out and rustle. Get to h ■ out of here! We don't 

want such people as you around. You hear me?" 

"Swear to G , Cap, I did me best. I didn't see no place 

where I could get any vegetables. 

"Oh, you're a good one, you are! Has your mammy got 
any more like you? If she has, she ought to take them out 
and drownd 'em! You're a piker, a four-flusher, a horse's 
titty, etc." 



He called the poor fellow all the bad names he could 
think of, and they were not a few. The recipient of these 
remarks accepted them silently for he did not dare to fire 
back. Had he done so he might have got his skull cracked. 

"That mulligan was made without vegetables for it was 
now too late to send any one else out after them. All the 
'boes were disappointed because there were no vegetables, 
and they considered that the chap who got a lacing from the 
captain for not bringing in any, deserved all he got and more, 
too. Had there been a mix-up they would have stood by the 
captain to a man. This the unsuccessful forager well knew, 
so it was his play to remain mum. 

The chief detective of a great trans-continental railway 
system who knows 'boes from the ground up, gave a brief 
sketch of them in a newspaper article recently, which I will 
reproduce here, for it will throw more light on the subject. 
This detective ought to know what he is talking about. This 
is what he said: 

"Tramps are divided into six different castes, as follows: 
kids, hoboes, stew bums, blanket-stiffs, gay-cats and jungle- 
buzzards. 

The kids leave home between the ages of 14 and 20 years. 
They beat trains all over the country. They beg, steal and 
serve time in jail, which makes them eligible to enter the 
hobo ranks at the age of 20. 

A hobo is between 20 and 30 years old. He can make a 
moving train going from fifteen to twenty miles an hour, with 
the pot-cocks of the engine wide open to blind him and keep 
him off. He will stop in a town until driven out by the police, 
will rob a box car, roll a drunk, steal chickens for the jungle- 
buzzard, build fires inside of cars in cold weather, use the rail- 
road company's material for the construction of small shan- 
ties, terrorize the occupants of section houses, commit petty 
thefts, break into stores, rob stations and farm-houses, beg at 
junction points, assault trainmen, blow safes, and some of 
them rise to the dignity of beating up a policeman and making 



48 

good their escape. The hobo is by far the most dangerous 
tramp. 

"A stew bum is what is left of a hobo when he becomes 
over ;U) years of age. He cannot 'malve' a passenger train any 
more. He hides away on frieght trains when traveling and 
gets on when they are stopped, drinks hard when he can get 
it, helps the jungle-buzzard to cook in the jungles, is an ex- 
convict, for he has done time in a state prison. He is a brok- 
en-down hobo that came up the line from a kid. 

"A blanket stiff is a degenerated worklngman. You will 
also find blanket stiffs who come up the line from kids and 
hoboes, but as they are between 40 and 60 years of age, they 
are harmless. They stow away in an empty box-car so they 
won't fall oif the train. Railroad men treat them kindly be- 
cause they are old. They carry a roll of old gunny sacks or 
old carpets to sleep in. 

"A gay-cat is a well-dressed young man who mixes with 
tramps in order to get over the road. The hoboes make the 
gay-cats do the begging at junction points because of their 
good appearance. They are between 20 and 40 years of age. 
They are from all trades and professions. 

"A jungle-buzzard is a cross between a prize fighter and 
a jungle-cook. When there is a large crowd in the jungle 
he will appoint the committees on bread, potatoes, chickens, 
beef, hogs, coffee, sugar and money. He cooks the mulligan 
stews with the assistance of the stew bums, whom he makes 
step lively. He also beats up any tramp around the camp 
that does not contribute to its support. He is generally be- 
tween 35 and 40 years of age and was once an able fellow.' 



CHAI'TICR IV. 
ON TO FRISCO. 

Billy and 1 had a lon^ wait of it at Dutch Flat before wo 
could get a train out oi" there. We were on the Overland line 
of the Southern Pacific railroad over which passenger and 
freight trains run frequ(Mi(l.v, hut the kind of train we wanted 
did not show ui). We preferred a long fr(Mglit tiain whicli 
did not run too fast for we wanted to have a good look at the 
scenery. So many 'boea had spoken favorably of California 
that we wondered if they had not been giving us a cock- 
and-bull story. Seeing is believing, thought we. 

Near the wee snuill hours of the morning, after passin.g a 
night of oft interrui)te(l slumber, for tlie false alarm trains 
were so many, a long mixed train canu^ along and made quite 
a stop at Dutch Flat. This gave us plenty of time to recon- 
noiter, so we carefully picked out a car which answered our 
puri)t)se well enough. It was a fairly clean oil-tanker, a l)ig 
oil tank set on a flat car 

It was nearly dawn before (he train pulled out with lUUy 
and 1 aboard of her and it was mighty cold riding at that hour 
of the day going down the mountains. We were still two or 
three thousand feet high and the cold breeze that the swiftly 
moving train was stirring u]) nuide our teeth chatter. Oh, for 
a cui) of hot coffee just, then! It would have been so grate- 
ful, so comforting! Our toes and noses were nearly frozen 
and the riding was anything but a pleasure. After an inter- 
minably long time, so it seemed to us, old Sol began to show 
his smiling countenance over the hill-tops, and he warmed and 
livened things u]) considerably. He warmed our hearts, too, 
so that life was worth living once more, but there was a 
great void in our stomachs, for we had not eaten anything in 



50 

six weeks, it seonied to us. Where we were to bi'oakfast or 
dine, we had not the faintest notion. 

We were now passing tlirough a pretty country again 
which was full of inspiring scenery. We were speeding along 
the narrow rims of precipices that were several thousand feet 
deep and which made us hold our breaths, for had the train 
jumped the track she would have rolled over a dozen times 
or more before she would have landed at the bottom, and then 
where would Billy and I have been? 

We made a brief stop at Colfax, which was a junction 
from whence a narrow ,i;auge railroad runs to Grass Valley 
and Nevada City, after which we sped on to Auburn, a pretty 
little mountain town in the foothills of the Sierras. .lust be- 
fore we got to Auburn we passed Cape Horn, near which the 
scenery is awe-inspiring. Here the American River winds 
through a narrow mountain pass, or canyon, which can be seen 
several thousand feet below, and the pauoranuis unfolded to 
our gaze as we were whisked around dizzy curves were 
sublime. Tree and verdure-clad mountain sides, a narrow, 
winding river that seemed like a thread, a wagon road run- 
ning along side of it, towering mountain-walls beside the 
track, were some of the scenes that we gazed upon. Beyond 
.Auburn the country opened up and the mountains began to 
disai)pear. Now, there were only foothills to be seen and they 
were nearly all covered with vines and fruit trees. These 
foothills of the Sierras are famous for their luscious fruits 
and it is said that oranges and lemons ripen earlier there 
than anywhere else in the United States. They ripen in early 
November and reach the eastern markets about a month 
earlier than other fruits of the same variety. They bring the 
top prices. 

The oranges were ripening just then and it did our eyes 
good to see them. Billy and 1 would much rather have eaten 
a few of them than to have been merely gazing at them. The 
orange tree is not a tall tree, but it has deep green, shiny 
leaves through which the golden fruit peeps. Billy and I were 
more than ready now to believe the tales that hmj been told 



51 

us of the beauties of California; in fact the descriptions had 
fallen short of the reality. California is a paradise and no 
mistake. Everything that srows there: trees, grain, fruit, 
vegetation, vegetables, flowers — everything blooms hixuriantly 
and great in size. Things grow so big it is a wonder they do 
not burst. This is not a fairy tale 1 am telling, but facts. 
While other states were already bare, cold and shivering, 
California was basking in warm sunshine. What a contrast! 

The old-time 'boes luiow these things are true. They 
have been in California many a time and they usually spend 
the winter there, basking in the warm sunlight and feasting 
off the fat of the land. You will find them strung along the 
right-of-way from Redding to San Diego, luxuriating in or- 
anges, grapes, apples, strawberries and other delicacies that 
grow at this season of the year in California. In the spring- 
time they fly eastward again toward their homes, but not a 
few think California is good enough for them and honor it by 
making it their pernuinent abiding ijlace. 

The old train shot onward past Newcastle, Penrhyn and 
I^oomis, making a brief stop at each place, l)ut not long enough 
to give us a chance to rustle up a hand-out. At a fruit load- 
ing-shed near i.oomis, Billy swiped some grapes which we ate 
but they did not diminish oui- appetite; they only increased 
it. 

Rocklin, the next stop, used to be a railroad division 
l)oint on the Southern Pacific but it is not now. It lies just 
at the base of the Sierra foothills and looks like a deserted 
village, for the railroad i)araphornalia was moved to Roseville, 
the next station west. 

Leaving Roseville, we made no more stops until we rolled 
into Sacramento, the capital of California. Although it is the 
capital it is not the largest city in the state by any means, 
for San Francisco, Oakland and Los Angeles are larger. 

As our train was not a passenger train it did not run into 
the station but was switched off in the yards." Billy and 1 
swung off in a hurry when the coast was clear, for bulls and 
fly-cops are very plentiful in those yards and it is pr(^tty hard 



52 

to avoid tliem. It was about noon when we made our debut 
in the yards, and after slinging our blanlvets over our should- 
ers we trudged onward along the tracks toward the city. We 
leisurely picked our way along the maze of tracks past rail- 
road construction shops, repair shops, foundries, etc., but 
though we were stared at by many of the railroad employes 
no one spoke a word to us. It was the noon hour any way — 
eating time. We gained the city without a hold-up or mis- 
hap of any sort and wandered through Chinatown, the first 
street we came to. 

Sacramento's Chinatown is a large, ancient and malodor- 
ous one, and we didn't linger in it very long. From a white 
man's restaurant run by Chinese we saw a good natured young 
man emerge, so Billy stepped up to him and boned him for the 
price of a square meal. The young fellow coughed up twenty- 
five cents which was all he had, he said, and which we were 
mighty glad to get, for, with such a sum we could purchase 
a fair supply of provisions. We bought two loaves of bread, 
a hunk of bologna and some pickles and then eagerly cast our 
eyes about for a likely spot where we could eat. Chinatown 
was a little too unsavory for us, so we sauntered on leisurely 
reconnoitering. We passed a street called J street and then 
K street, but kept on walking until we saw a fine big plaza, or 
park. We walked up to and in to it, and found it to be a 
spacious and pretty breathing spot, at the further end of 
which stood the State Capitol Building, a large, fine one. 
There were benches in this park, flower beds, plenty of trees, 
pampas-plume bushes and walks. 

Here Billy and I concluded to strike camp. We unslung 
our blankets, deposited our grub on a bench and sat down. 
We felt hot, tired and dusty. Whew! As regards our appe- 
tite, gee whiz! It did not take us long to wade into our grub. 
While eating it, Billy growled like a dog, in fun. It was a 
way he had, when feeling gay, of giving vent to his feelings 
I was humming a tune and smiling at Billy's dog tricks. 

"Pretty nice park this Billy?" 



53 

Billy continued his munching and growling. He was 
too busy to talk. 

"Look ovir there, Billy," said I, pointing; "see those yel- 
low balls hanging among the green leaves?" 

"Oranges, Windy, as sure as we're alive," cried Billy, 
excitedly. "Keep an eye on my grub will you, till J get a 
few?" 

Billy was excited sure enough and there was no restrain- 
ing him. He was off like a shot, but I shouted after him: 
"keep your eye peeled for cops!" The little cuss didn't hear 
me. 

Neither of us had eaten any oranges ri.ght off the trees, 
so the pleasures of hope and of anticipation were great within 
us. I was as eager as Billy. Soon the little Britisher re- 
turned with half a dozen big oranges which he had stowed 
away in his pickets. They made his pockets bulge out like 
sacks. Billy drew forth one orange after another. 

"Say, ain't they beauties?" remarked I, with my eyes 
bulging in anticipation. 

"Well, I rawther guess," responded Billy, getting off some 
of his Britishisms. 

We peeled the oranges and then sat down contentedly 
to eat them. Billy bit into his first and after doing so made a 
wry face. 

"What's the matter, lad?" inquired I. 

Billy's mouth was all puckered up. "Why, they're bitter 
as gall. Booh!'" exclaimed he, as he flung the oranges over 
his shoulder into the bushes behind him. I tasted one and 
found it bitter as gall. 

"Say, Billy, we've been misinformed. The California 
oranges are N. G. We've been buncoed." 

"Right you are, me covey," responded Billy. "I've had 
enough of them." 

A fierce thirst now assailed us, due probably to the spice 
in the bologna, so we went to a drinking fountain near by 
where we drank a few cups full of rather muddy water. 
After that we pulled forth our pipes and indulged in a smoke. 



M 

What we had seen of Sacramento kind of looked good to 
us. The place had the appearance of an over-grown village 
which had been transmogrified into a city gradually. It was 
right up-to-date though, for it had street cars, electric lights 
and all the other modern improvements. 

"This town looks good to me, Billy; suppose we camp 
here for awhile; you know we are broke and maybe we may 
be able to get something to do. We will need a few dollars 
when we get into Frisco." 

"Right you are. Mayl)c we can get a job here. Let's try." 
said Billy. 

We struck a job Ihe very next morning at street work 
near the Sacramento River levee. The street was being re- 
paired and men were wanted. We were offered two dollars 
a day which we gladly accepted. We held down ^^he job for 
nearly a week. 

We soon learned that the drinking water of Sacramento 
was not of good quality, for it is taken from the Sacramento 
River and is impure, therefore we took to drinking Sacra- 
mento steam-beer straight and found it good. We heard a 
whole lot of talk about the Native Stuis. This is an organiza- 
tion composed of young men who were born and raised in 
California and who take a pride in their native State and 
make it their business to preserve its big trees, landmarks, 
old missions and other things worth preserving. They 
monopolize all the good things in the way of jobs, we were 
told, but we did not find this to be the case. W^e found the 
people of Sacramento to be an open-hearted, approachable, 
friendly sort of people, who treat strangers fine. 

Unfortunately, Billy developed a clear case of the shakes 
before we had been in Sacramento many days, which put him 
in a pretty bad way. I don't know whether it was the water 
or the air that made him sick, but the poor little fellow was 
taken suddenly one afternoon. A high fever set in, his teeth 
rattled like clappers and he shook like an aspen leaf. Our 
mates told us that- quinine and whisky was the proper remedy 
for this malady, so 1 bought a l)ottle of whisky, put quinine 



into it ami poiirrd the whole bol tie-lull ilowii Billy's Ihioal lit 
once. Tlu^ poor ctiss look to it as naturally as does a kid to 
its mother's milk, but it did him no {!:ood. He became unable 
to work or leave his room. His head was all wronj;, he told 
nie, and he was as weak as a kitt(Mi alter each shake. He 
surely was in a bad way. 1 sug.i;esled that we get out of 
Sacramento as soon as possible, tor change of air and scene 
might be good. Billy was indifferent and did not care whether 
he stayed there or died. 

I went to the construction boss, drew our i)ay and very 
soon afterward we had left Sacramento behind us and were 
crossing the Sacramento River on a bridge. Billy was so 
weak on his pins that he could scarcely walk, so 1 made him 
put his arm around my shoulder. I put an arm around his 
waist, and thus we moved along. Billy staggered and the peo- 
ple who saw us undoubtedly thought that both of us were 
drunk, but we didn't care what they thought. 

After we had got about half way across the long bridge, 
Billy sat down on a string-piece and declared he could go no 
further. He told me to go on and to let him die in peace. 

"What, you silly little Britisher, you want to croak, do 
you? Croak nothing! You ain't any nearer death than 1 am. 
All you need is a little rest and then we'll hike along a little 
furthei-, where we can catch a train: then, ho! for Frisco, 
where our troubles will soon be ended. You know we can't 
make a train in Sacramento, for the bulls would get on to 
us and run us in; as soon as we catch a train our troubles 
will be over. You hear me?" 

Billy listened to this long speech of mine with closed 
eyes. He frowned and said he was in a bad way. I tried to 
jolly him along and to put some heart into him, lor we had 
to get out of this, even if 1 had to drag him out. 

"Come, Billy, this won't do. Y(ni ain't a dead one yet. 
Just because you have the belly-ache you think you're going 
to croak. You're about the chicken-heartedesi, most cowardly 
little cuss 1 ever run up against; yoii haven't got moie sand 



50 

about you than a kid. Come, brace up; be a man and have 
some style about you!" 

I tried to stir the little cuss up, and to get him mad, but 
it was no go. I grabbed him by the arm after we had rested 
long enough and told him it was time to go. He did not 
want to go but I made him. 

'You'll be all right as soon as we get away from this 
malaria country. Frisco is near the ocean air and will make 
you feel like a fighting-cock. Come on, you chicken-hearted 
little Britisher, get some life into you! Don't give in to a 
trifle like that." 

"Trifle?" indignantly replied Billy in a weak voice. "If 
you felt as I do you wouldn't feel so gay." 

"No back talk, now, kid! You come along with me. You 
hear me? " 

I had a pretty hard time of it with the little fellow, but 
I showed no pity for him and had no mercy on him. I knew 
he'd soon be all right when we got away from Sacramento, 
and I was determined to get him away. 

In due time we made a freight train going toward Frisco, 
and held her down until she reached Benicia where there 
was a long stop. We stopped there so long that I hopped 
off to see what the trouble was. Why, we were entirely sur- 
rounded by water and could go no further. I returned to 
Billy and told him what the trouble was. He said he didn't 
care a darn whether we ever got to Frisco or not. 

"You don't, eh? well I do. You can stay here as long as 
you like." With this I jumped off the car again to rcconnoiter, 
to see what was best to be done. If Billy wanted to be 
grouchy, all right. Let him get over it the best way he 
could. 

There was a pretty wide river, or bay, here, I noticed, 
and the railroad track led into a ferry house, so I imagined 
that the train would be ferried across the water; and so it 
proved. An immense ferryboat, called the Solano, soon came 
puffing along and eventually made fast in her slip. As soon 
as she had been made fast, the freight cars were rolled on 



57 

to her —I counted thirty-two of them —then away we slowly 
steamed across the bay. I returned to Billy and informed 
him that wo were traveling on the water in a railroad car. 
He stared. 1 explained. 

"Where are we bound for?" asked Billy. 

"To Frisco, of course; where else? Would you like to 
go back to Sacramento?" 

"Not on your life! I had i-ather croak." 

"All right, Billy; you don't have to. We'ri^ nuiking a 
bee-line for Frisco now, and we'll soon be there. Cheer up, 
kid; you aint a dead one yet. 

Billy heard but he (lidn't say any thing. He rolled over 
in his blankets and giuntcMl. 1 felt like giving him a kick 
in the rump, for il would have got him mad and fired him up 
a bit, but I didn't do 'so. Instead, I said to him: "we're on 
the water, now, Billy. Sit up and sniff the salt breezes; 
they'll do you good." 

Billy sat up and looked tlirough tlie partly open doorway 
where the shore lights and stars were visible, but he kept 
mum I'or a while. Finally he enquired: "Is it far to Frisco, 
yet?" 

"About thirty miles," replied I, consulting a time table. 
"We'll be in Frisco in al)Out an hour, if nothing liai)pens." 

We both lay down and fell asleep, but were soon awaken- 
ed by a bump. More switching was going on. This was 
Port Costa, a station across ,the bay. We stopped here for 
quite a while, so Billy and T put in the time snoozing. I^ater 
on, another bump awakened us. We were stopping at Pinole. 

"My goodness gracious! Isn't this train ever going to 
get to Frisco?" peevishly murnnued Billy to no one in par- 
ticular. 

"I'd advise you to liir(> a special train if >ou're in a 
hurry," sarcastically advised 1, as I rolled over to woo the 
drowsy goddess — Miss Murphy, once more. I felt crusty my- 
self at the many delays. 

As it was near daylight when our train stopijcd in Oak- 
land, we concluded to remain there in the car iind have our 



58 

sleep out, for no one would molest us at that hour of the 
day, we felt sure. Nor did anyone do so. We were well 
concealed in an enclosed box-car and had closed the door 
tight. I don't know how long the sun light had been stream- 
ing through a chink in the door before we awoke. Billy was 
feeling a good deal better, he told me, and was able to arise 
and to jump out of the car after me. 

"Where are we. Windy?" 

"Were in Oakland, opposite Frisco. What a beautiful 
morning it is! How's your appetite, Billy?" 

"Ain't got any," sourly replied Billy. 

"Well, let's make tracks then for Frisco. Maybe by the 
time we get over there we'll both of us feel like tackling 
something. There's one more river to cross, though, I see, 
before we can get to Frisco. We'll have to walk along that 
wharf there, " explained I, pointing to a long trestle or wharf 
extending a mile or so into the bay, "and after that there'll 
be a ferry to cross; this time we'll have to dig up to get 
across or swim. Which do jou prefer?" 

Billy concluded he'd rather dig up, and so did I. 

It was now about seven o'clock in the morning. The sun 
was well up in the heavens, a pure, fresh, balmy breeze -^as 
blowing and as Billy and I walked along the "mole," as it is 
called, we felt bright and invigorated. Although it was now 
the month of November there were no evidences of winter 
at hand for all nature seemed bright, smiling and warm. Billy 
felt much better and walked along slowly, a big smile spread- 
ing over his face. He tried to hum a tune from a comic 
opera. He had not the appearance of a dead man yet. 

We walked into the ferry-house on the Oakland side, 
which is the terminus of all overland trains, and I slammed 
down two dimes at the ticket window, whereupon two ferry 
tickets were shoved out to me. We went aboard the ferry 
boat. It was a fine one. On the lower decks were runways 
for vehicles, and at either side of them were seats for pas- 
sengers. On the upper decks were cabins which were fitted 
up handsomely. The boat was wide, roomy and spacious and 



59 

could hold a multitude of people, thousands of them, witliout 
crowding anyone. Billy and I went upstairs, for we wanted 
to get an elevated view of the scenery. The boat moved out 
from her slip rapidly, her whistles blowing and her twin 
screws going at a great rate, causing the boat to shivei- and 
tremble. 

Very speedily we came abreast of an island called Coat 
Island, some one informed us, and Billy wanted to know 
why it was called Goat Island. 

"Search me, Billy. I suppose there are a lot of billies 
and nannies on it. It looks as if there might be." 

We were in San Francisco Bay, now, said to be the sec- 
ond finest in the world, Sydney Bay, in Australia being first. 
San Francisco Bay is about 100 miles long and averages 
about five miles in width; it is entirely land-locked, affording 
a secure retreat from storms for vessels of any size or depth. 
The navies of the whole world could easily find room in this 
bay without crowding each other, and have safe anchorage 
as well. It is this magnificent bay, the finest in the United 
States, that will some day make San Francisco one of the 
largest cities in the country. Today, San Francisco is the 
metropolis of the Coast, although other cities dispute the 
claim. Los Angeles is a rival, and so are Portland, Tacoma 
and Seattle. These cities have fine harbors, too, and are 
building up rapidly. 

We were nearing Frisco. Telegraph Hill, behind the 
waterfront, loomed up plainly and we could see that the whole 
city was built on hills and in valleys. The city looked good 
to us from the distance. We saw plenty of wharves and ship- 
ping and a very long ferry-house with a tall clock-tower upon 
it. The waters of the bay were fairly alive with crafts of 
all sorts, fioni launches and tugs to steamboats, ferry-boats, 
ocean liners and warships, the latter being anchored in the 
stream pretty far out. The view was a lively one and in- 
terested us considerably. 



CO 

"It won't be long now before we will breal<fast Billy. 
How would a big porterhouse steak, smothered in onions 
fit you?" asked I. 

"Nit!" answered Billy. "Mutton chops, tea and toast 
for me." 

After our boat had been moored fast in her slip, we 
rushed off with the rest of the passengers and had a look 
around on shore. Near the ferry-house where we had landed 
there were saloons, restaurants, oyster-houses, fruit stores and 
many other kinds of stores, business establishments, free- 
lunch emporiums, ship-outfitting shops and a multiplicity of 
car tracks along the wide street on which cars ran in every 
direction. The street in front of the ferry-house was several 
hundred feet in width and afforded ample space for all 
kinds of traffic. 

"What's the first thing on the programme, Billy," asked I. 

"Breakfast of course," answered he. 

We did not have far to go to find a restaurant. Right 
opposite the ferry-house was an establishment of that sort 
which had enamel-letter signs on the front windows an- 
nouncing what there was to be had inside. We went in and 
found the place to be a very neat, orderly and well kept one. 
Billy ordered mutton chops, tea and toast. I thought that a 
big steak smothered in onions would about hit me right. A 
scrumptious steak was brought me, cooked fine, with plenty 
of fried potatoes, hot rolls and butter, and a cup of delicious 
coffee. On the table were plates heaped high with bread of 
various kinds (including one kind with raisins in it), and 
various kinds of sauces, condiments and pickles. The lay-out 
was more than generous. Billy had a bird-like appetite and 
just pecked at things, but I made up for the two of us. I ate 
so much that I grew ashamed of myself. Everything tasted 
so good. We never had a better meal anywhei'e, at any 
price, and the price was only twenty-five cents for each. 

After emerging from the restaurant we stood in front 
of it for a moment picking our teeth and talking. 

"What's the next thing on the programme. Billy?" 



Gl 

"Furnished room," laconically answered Billy. 

In search of a furnished room we went. The saloons in 
that vicinity attracted our notice. They were handsome and 
distingue, for the floors were inlaid with marble, the bars 
were of costly wood and elaborately carved, the back-bars 
were fitted up with elegant glassware, decanters, bottles, 
etc., and the establishments seemed swell. Evidently Frisco 
is a rich place, for almost every other establishment was a 
swell-looking one. The fruit stores, also attracted our at- 
tention. Such fruit we had never seen before. There were 
large yellow grape-fruits piled up in heaps; immense oranges; 
luscious grapes of several varieties, such as flame tokay, 
muscat, etc.; fine looking apples, large fancy pears, persim- 
mons, nectarines, figs, dates, olives, strawberries as big as 
walnuts, nuts and vegetables of all kinds. All were so big, 
and luscious that it was a treat to see them. 

"How does Frisco strike you, Billy?" asked I. 

"Just right," answered Billy. "I think I will live and 
die here." 

"Well, I wouldn't like to be found dead here," said I, 
but, I'm willing to live here, for a while, at any rate." 

On we went along the main street opposite the ferry- 
house, and then we went into side-streets, in which were 
groggeries with dance-hall attachments. Some of these 
seemed pretty tough joints. 

Down on Pacific street, Billy and I rented a room in a 
lodging house for the two of us for $1.50 per week. The 
price seemed reasonable to us. In the room was a bedstead 
of iron framework, a bare floor, a chair, a box with a tin 
basin standing on it, and a towel. Only this and nothing 
more. It was enough, though, for our purposes, for neither 
of us were high toned. 

We threw our blankets down on the floor, undressed, 
took a wash and then felt refreshed and comfortable. Billy 
lay down on the bed for a little while, and I sat down on a 
chair near him where we could chat without raising our 
voices too high. Nothing worth recording was said, however. 



G2 

After a while I suggested that we take a short stroll along 
the waterfront to view the shipping. Billy was agreeable 
for he thought with me, that the more fresh air he got the 
sooner would he be well. 

At Howard-street wharf we noticed a black, squat, rather 
square and grimy ship moored to the wharf, which we di- 
vined at once was a whaler, for the cut of her proclaimed it. 

Along this same wharf we noticed a large English ship 
moored, and a German bark. The English ship had the name 
"Selkirk," painted on her stern, and the German bark the 
word "Neckar." The English ship, a tall four-master flew 
the British flag, and was huge in dimensions. A long stair- 
way, or gangplank led from the wharf to her deck. When 
Billy saw the British flag flying, tears came to his eyes and 
he grew homesick. 

"I'm going aboard of that vessel to have a look at her. 
Come with me, will you. Windy?" entreated Billy. 

"I don't think they'll let us on board." 

•'Why not? ' asked Billy. 

"Because we have no business there," answered I. 

"Aw let's go up, anyway; they can't do more than fire us 
down." 

"All right, Billy; you go up first." 

Up we went slowly and carefully, and when we came to 
the deck a sailor approached us and with an English accent 
asked us what our business was. Billy told him that he was 
English and that as he saw the English flag flying he felt 
like going aboard to have a look around. 

"It's against'the rules, h'im sorry to say. My h'orders is 
to let no one on deck. Very sorry, but I can't let you 
on deck." 

Billy was very much disappointed and groped his way 
down again after me, silent and dejected. 

The German vessel, the "Neckar," also was a fine, large 
ship, but Billy did not want to go aboard of her. One un- 
pleasant experience was enough for him. 



63 

At this wharf we noticed some fishing going on by men 
and boys who had lines in the water. Now and tlien a small 
fish would be hooked and hauled up by some lucky fisherman 
but more young sharks were caught than any thing else. 
Wherever a shark was pulled up the owner of the line be- 
came disgusted and angry, and stamped out the life of the 
unfortunate denizen of the deep as soon as it was taken off 
the hook. Why this animosity against the shark I do not 
know, but I heard some one say that sharks destroy the 
fishermen's nets, eat other fish and are a general nuisance. 

San Francisco Bay and adjacent waters abound with a 
variety of fish, such as, salmon, sturgeon, rock cod, barracouta, 
pompano, sole, tom-cod, cod, turbot, mackerel, sardines, jelly- 
fish, shad, shark, porpoises, tuna (jew-fish), halibut, flounders, 
skate, bull-heads, cat-fish, carp; and crustaceans, such as, 
crabs, shrimps, abalones, oysters and clams. 

The clams are large, but the oysters are small, hardly 
larger than a twenty-five cent piece. The abalones, however, 
are several times larger than a large eastern oyster and are 
good eating when they are cooked right. Many of them are 
put up in cans and shipped to all parts of the world. 

Billy and I remained at the wharf a long while, sitting 
on a string-piece, enjoying the delicious air and sun light, 
and chatting. Billy's shakes had evaporated and he was be- 
ginning to feel like a new man. 

We bummed around the waterfront nearly all day, view- 
ing the ships and along-shore objects, and the sights were 
varied and interesting. Goat Island and the Alameda 
county shore loomed up plainly from the wharves. 

We had supper at about six o'clock and after strolling 
about a bit afterward among the dance-halls, concert-halls, 
doggeries, etc., we went to bed to have a good night's sleep. 
W^e needed it. Some time after we had turned off the light 
and composed ourselves for slumber Billy got restless and 
kept a-twitching and a-turning. 

"What's ailing you, Billy? Why don't you go to sleep? 
Why don't you lie quiet?" asked I testily. 



64 

"1 (lon'l know what the matter is. There's something 
biting me." 

"Biting you! " exclaimed I in astonishment and alarm, 
for maybe I might get bitten too. "Let's get up and see if 
there's anything in the bed." 

1 hopped out first, for I lay in front and turned on the 
light, whereupon Billy hopped out after me. Billy flung the 
bedclothes over the foot of the bed, and there we noticed 
several good-sized fleas hopping around at a lively rate to 
find shelter and safety. Aha! that's what the trouble was, 
eh! You should have seen Billy and I go for them fleas. We 
made a dive for one, cussing him to beat the band and trying 
to hold him down under a finger, but he was too nimble. Not 
a flea could we catch, but we gave them a pretty good scare. 
That was worth something". We went to bed again and put in 
a bad night, at least Billy did; but the bloodthirsty little 
creatures didn't bother me any. Maybe my hide was too 
thick. 

When Billy got up the next morning he pulled off his 
shirt and showed me his bare, white skin wliich was all eat 
up. 

"Look at thai, will you," said Billy, mad as blazes. "Isn't 
that awful? " 

"Yes, it is." re])lied 1, but it can't be helped. You'll have 
to grin and bear it, Billy. I guess (hat's what all Frisco 
people have to do when they get flea bitten. " 



CHAPTER V. 
SAN FRANCISCO. 

A hriol' (leyci'ii)ti()n ol' S;in l<"'r;nK'isc() ni;iy iiol he oiil of 
place here: 

San Francisco has about hall' a million ol' iuJiabitants. 
It lies partly alons^- the shores ol' San Krancisco Bay (which 
connects with the ocean five miles away lhroui;h the dolden 
Gate) and until 184!) it did not amount to niucli. Atlcr the 
discovery of gohl. people flocked to il from all parts of the 
world so that even today Its popnlation is a very mixed one. 

One will not find a city with a more mixed population 
anywhere, and the result is that San Francisco today is one 
of the gayest, liveliest, dizziest cities to be found anywhere. 
Friscoites call their city the Paris of America and if the Par- 
isians love fun more, then they must be fun-loving indeed. 

Money is made easily on the Pacific Slope and every one 
can have a good time, more or less, according to his desires 
and means. The least coin used is a nickel — five cents — and 
it don't take many a nickel to make a dollar. Every one, 
nearly, makes money and feels like letting it go. There are 
fast girls in Frisco without number, bunco-steerers, music- 
halls, gamblers, dance-halls, dives, low theatres, saloons of 
all grades, restaurants in great numbers and many amusement 
places. 

The Chinese have some fine restaurants and so have the 
French, the Greeks, the Spanish, Italians, Geivmans and 
others. For a dollar one can get a good dinner, including 
wine in many restaurants, and in some for more or less. Some 
French dinners at 75 cents the i)late are not at all bad. 

Theatres, moving picture shows, etc., are so numerous 
that one is puzzled where to go. One can taice in a shovv 



00 

from five cents up, and see a fairly good show even for that 
low price. 

Since the earthquake — April, 1900 — laws have been en- 
acted in San Francisco prohibiting gambling, horse-racing, 
etc., but one might as well try to sweep back the ocean with 
a broom as to try to stop such sports. The people like sport 
and will have it, and they do have it, law or no law. 

They like good eating and drinking, too, theatres, balls, 
dances, functions of all sorts, bridge, whist, poKer, joy- 
riding and any or every thing that thrills or exhilirates. 

No San Franciscan living today will forget April 190G— 
the time of the earthquake — for it changed the appearance 
of San Francisco wholly. Before that period the buildings 
were mainly of wood, but since the qu'ake, which destroyed 
nearly the whole city, all the buildings in the business sec- 
tion have been reconstructed of stone, iron and other inde- 
structible materials. In consequence the old appearance of 
the city has been changed and it is not what it used to be. 
It is newer, more substantial, and handsomer. The old atmo- 
sphere is gone. The earthquake did not affect the disposi- 
tion of the San Franciscans, however, for it is just the same. 
They love their pleasure just as much as ever, and maybe 
more so. 

.For some reason or other — 1 cannot understand why — 
San Francisco people do not like to have their city called 
Frisco, for they say to call it so is a slur. The old San Fran- 
ciscans were not so particular, but maybe they are getting 
classy and high toned nowadays because their new buildings 
are large, elegant and imposing, and they wish to show the 
world that they are refined as well as fun-loving. That they 
are hospitable there can be no doubt, for all the world is 
aware of that fact. Artists, prize fighters and others make 
more money in Frisco, usually, than they do in any other 
city, and the reason for it is that the Friscoites are easily 
parted from their money. 

But why should they object to having their city called 
"Frisco?" Sacramento is called "Sac": Los Angeles is called 



(!7 



••Los"; San Bernardino is calltMi •'San Uordoo"; San Bueiui 
Ventura is called "Ventura"; Philadelphia is called •'Philly'; 
New York City is called ••little old New York," "Cothani." and 
other pet names; Chicago is called ••Chi," and so forth, and so 
forth. Why should San Francisco object to a pet name'.' 

Market street is the main thorough fare oi" l'"'risco — excuse 
me, I should say, San Francisco. It begins at I he l'\M-ry-lionse, 
and extends up several miles to the mountains. II is a bioad 
and handsome thoroughfare, traversed by nian\ street car 
lines, and it is the main shoi)ping c(Mitre. From Third street 
up, it is thronged with people all day long and fur into the 
night. On Market street are situated the big daily news- 
l)ai)er buildings, many wholesale and retail establishments, 
banks, office-buildings, lint> stor(>s, (>te. On some of the sidt-- 
streets, however, ther(> are also handsome establishments. 

Tliird street, which l)(>for(> the quake, was built u]) with 
two and three-story wooden shacks, now has stone and brick 
structures only, and some of them are sykscrapers. 'i'lie 
same may be said of Fourth, Fifth, Sixth and other south of 
Market streets. They are not yet l)uilt up as solidly as they 
had been, but the buildings that now go up are not shacks. 
Thus the appearance of San Francisco has been chan.ged 
greatly since the fire and earthquake. The old almosphere 
is gone never to come again. 

One of the chief feature s of I'^riseo is iier eliinate, which 
registers about ()() (lei;r(>es by tlie tluMDionieler all the year 
round. This is a si)ring-like temi)erature and can't be beat 
the world over. It. compares with the tenipeiature of such 
favored cities as Nice, in France; Trieste, in Austria; Naples, 
in Italy; Cadiz, in Spain, etc., and means long life, joy and 
happiness to those who can live in such a climate, and linow 
how to take care of themselves. 

Extreme heat or cold are unknown, as are frost and snow. 
Many people in San Francisco never have seen snow. It 
does not fall there often, nor does ice form. Flowers bloom 
the year round. But It has its drawbacks, too. 



G8 

Fogs drive in from the ocean during tlie summer time, 
rendering the atmosphere raw and chill, and there are earth- 
quakes there, too, occasionally. But these prevail all over 
the world. 

As a rule, the weather in Frisco is far more beautiful in 
the winter time than it is in the summer time, for during the 
winter months there are few fogs and the atmosphere is 
bright, balmy and sunny, and like rare old wine. 



CHAPTER VI. 
DOING FRISCO. 

"Well, Billy, how are we going to put in this fine day?" 
asked I, the morning after our debut in San Francisco, as we 
stood in front of a restaurant in which we had just break- 
fasted. 

"I've been thinking it over," replied he, "and I have come 
to the conclusion that I don't want any more bugs in mine. 
Them fleas were too much for me. I think we had better 
change our quarters." 

"What?" cried I in amazement, "and lose the dollar and 
a half rent that we put up for the room? You ain't crazy, are 
you?" 

"Not a bit of it. I'm not going to sleep in that bed again 
if I have to sleep in the streets. Them fleas, oh!" Here the 
little fellow grimaced. "No more fleas in mine. That's 
positive." 

"What will we do, then? Where will we go?" asked I. 

"We'll leave our traps where they are now and hunt a 
room further up town. That neighborhood is a little too 
tough for me, anyway." 

"All right, Billy; if you're determined to change, we'll 
give up the room and sacrifice our good money. Any thing 



69 

to keep peace in the family." Billy and I never argued mat- 
ters much or growled at each other long. We soon got over 
any disagreement, for neither of us was ill-natured or un- 
reasonable, although hasty in temper sometimes. 

Accordingly, we strolled up Market street leisurely, look- 
ing into the store windows and taking in the sights by the 
wayside. There were lots of fine-looking women on the 
streets we noticed, who seemed to be of all nationalities. 
They had good complexions, fine figures and nearly all of 
them had a well-fed appearance, as if they got plenty to eat. 
When they looked at us it was with rather an impudent air, 
which gave us an impression that it would take a lot of 
money to satisfy their many wants, and that "if you have 
no money you needn't come around. " 

Up around the retail stores on Market street from Third 
to Fourth and Fifth streets the ladies were most numerous 
— thick — and they interested us far more than the show- 
windows did, although the show-windows were very enticing. 
Billy and I both were artists — we had an eye for the beautiful, 
and female beauty interested us considerably. 

Can you blame us? Some of these pretiy women were 
of a flirty disposition, as we could see by their manner. We 
both appreciated such things. 

We turned down Fourth street, passing by Stevenson, 
Minna, Natoma, .Jessie, Mission, Howard, Folsom and other 
streets and then, turning back, returned to Minna street, 
through which we slowly walked in search of a room. This 
street was not built up much as yet, although before the 
quake it had been built up solidly with dwellings, on both 
sides of the street, but now, many lots were vacant. 

We came upon a dingy frame dwelling on which there 
was tacked a sign with "room to let" on it, so there we rang 
the bell. A lady came to the door and asked what we 
wanted, whereupon we told her that we were looking for a 
furnished room. 

"Step right in, gentlemen," courteously said she. 



. 70 

We stepped in and began negotiations for a room, "toot 
sweet," as tlie Frenchman says. 

I informed tlie landlady that we had rented and paid in 
advance for a room yesterday, but that we didn't like it be- 
cause it was too noisy. 

"Oh, you won't hear any noise here," put in the land- 
lady quickly. 

"Pardon me, lady," said I, "I meant to cast no reflec- 
tions." 

The lady had a large front room which was neatly furn- 
ished. It had a carpet on the floor; in it there was a wash- 
stand, dresser, a table and chairs, besides a book-stand on 
the shelves of which were many books. We could have this 
room for eight dollars a month. This was a reasona'ole price, 
we thought. 

As we had only a few dollars, however, I declared that 
we could not afford to pay so much for a room just now. As 
Billy and I liked the room we told the landlady that we would 
be willing to do this: — 

We would pay her a dollar and a half for the first week, 
which was all that we could spare at the present time, and 
after that we would pay eight dollars per month. We ex- 
pected to strike a job before the week was up and told the 
landlady so. 

We saw plainly that she did not like this arrangement, 
but after she had sized us up carefully, and seen that we 
were pretty decent fellows, she said "all right; I'll let you 
have the room on that condition, and I hope you'll stick to 
your word."' 

"Have no fear m'am; we'll do the right thing by you!" 

The arrangements being made, we arose, bade her adieu 
for the present, and told her that we would go down town to 
get our things and be right back. 

We walked down to the Barbary Coast once more where 
our room was located, secured our belongings and then took a 
car at the foot of Market street for our up-town room; for, 
although the distance from Pacific street to Minna is not 



71 

very great, yet when walked several times it grows tiresome. 

We found our new room again after hunting a little while 
and after remaining in it a short time, concluded, as the day 
was so fine, that we had better be out sightseeing. I went 
out alone first and bought some things for our lunch, which 
we ate in our room, before going out on our sightseeing tour. 
After lunch we went forth, lit our pipes and strolled up Mar- 
ket street way. 

"Where'll we go, Billy?" 

"I've heard a whole lot of talk about the Cliff House and 
Seal Rocks," said Billy; "suppose we go there?" 

"All right, my boy, I'm with you," responded I heartily. 

We made inquiries and learned that several lines of street 
cars would take us out to the "Cliff," by transferring. We 
entered a car and had a deuce of a time getting there for the 
"Cliff" was a very long way off, several miles. 

The distance was about ten miles, I believe, yet the fare 
is only five cents, which was mighty cheap riding, we thought. 
The ride was interesting, too, for there wore many things to 
be seen. The car rolled swiftly along through private streets 
that were full of quaint wooden residences and through 
many streets that contained stores, until finally we were 
whisked along on the outside of Golden Gate Park, which is 
about as fine a park as one would wish, to see. Next we came 
to open country along which there were sand hills, a few 
buildings, tree-clad hills and then an uninhabited stretch of 
country. In due time we came by a life-saving station near 
the ocean beach, but the car shot on so swiftly that we could 
see but little of it, which disappointed us. On we sped at 
the rate of about sixty miles an hour until finally we stopped 
at the terminus of the line which was at the ocean ueacn. 

We hopped off the car and followed the other passengers 
to the beach where there is a long, broad boulevard lined 
with road-houses, inns, etc., from which one can contemplate 
the melancholy waters of the mighty Pacific Ocean, and eat, 
drink and be merry. A long straight road led up a hillside to 
an extensive structure which is called the Cliff House. The 



oiiKiiKil CHIT lloust> was (|( si roved 1)\ liio iiiiiny yiars .i.ii,(), 
iiiul so were several others tluit were built afterwiird. 

The present Cliff Mouse is eoinparativoly new, and had 
only just been completed. It was a building- seviral stories 
in hei.uhl, with carriage and automobile sheds in a yard at one 
tiid of it; l)au(iuet, diuini; and sleeping rooms in the upper 
stories and on the ground lloor was a long, glass-covered 
pavilion in which wert< arranged seats and tables at which 
one could sit and partalve of retreshments, if one chose. Beer, 
soft drinl\S, sandwiches, ici> cream, etc., could hv had at rea- 
sonable i)i'ic(>s. Hilly and I wimimTI hungry or thirsty, so we 
concluded not to iiatroni7,(> the liar or si( down at the relresh- 
meul lal)h's, but wi> walluMl lo the end of the pavilion where 
W(> could gaze out ov(>r (hi> ocean Ihrougli tlu' windows and 
see wliat there was to l>e seen out that way. 

The (Miff llcnise is built on a tall cliff extending right over 
the walir and a sublime but rather sad i)rosi)ect can be had 
from there. Right below it roll and break the tremendous 
billows of the Pacilic with a never-ending roar, and in every 
direction lo tlu> si\y-lint\ extend the l)lue waters of this vast 
sea. ui)on which the sunlight nearly alwaxs i)la.\s. 'riii> water 
is always warm, for it is'warmed by the ,lai)au current, and 
people bathe in it all the year round. (Hilly and 1 saw children 
and grown folks bathing in these waters that same winter). 

.About a stone's throw from tlu> sliore, luit in vei-y deep 
water, stands a little island which is formed of rocks of all 
sizes and shapes, and which are calh>d the Seal Rocks. Seals 
make it their playground and can i)e seen on it at all times, 
having a good time in their own way. Some seals are clamb- 
ering up the rocks, some clambering down, some are laying 
off on the rocks and snoozin.g, and others are talking lo each 
other in their own language, shoving each other off the rocks 
into the ocean in anger or fun. It is a wonderful .^i,ght to be- 
hold these seals. Tlu\v seem so close by that one can almost 
hit them with a rock, but it is strictly forbidden by law to 
mohst i\\c\u in au\ wa\ . Ma.v 1h> they avo aware of the fact, for 
thev seem to havt> no fear of n)an and gaze at bin) with indiff- 



rri'iHH>. Soiiif (if lh(>s(' cii'iidiiTs iivr ;ik UiV'j,v :is a liorsi', aliiiosl, 
tlic l)ii; hulls especially, but Ihc iiiajoi-jly ai'e snialU>r. It is 
very iuUresliiii; to watch (Ik in, and Hilly could not keep his 
eyes off them. 

"Well, I'll he hlowed!" oxclaiiiKd he, when he (hsl saw 
the sleek creatures, "ain't they cheeky hcRjiars to coin(> so 
close to the shore'.' I'd like to throw sonuMliini; at I hem to 
see what they'd do." 

"You'd be arrested in an instant if you tried an.\thini; like 
that," admonished 1. "Metier not lr\ it." 

"All ri^lit; 1 ha,V(> no such idea; 1 was onls lalkinj;," re- 
sponded IMlly. 

He kept starinj;- at tlu> seals with ev(>r incr(>asin.i; wonder 
and seemed mightily interested in them. A Tier he had hwn 
starinj;- about an hour, 1 said to him imi)alieutly, "coiue on, 
Billy; w(> can't stay lu>re all day lout;; there are oIIum- things 
to see! " 

"What's your Iiurr.x?" calmly asked Hill.v . 'You nev(M' 
saw anything like this before, did you'.'" 

"No, 1 didn't, but 1 don't want to stay here all da.\ . Come 
on, will you?" pleaded 1, coaxingly. 

1 had a hard job dragging Hilly away from tlu^ spot, and 
he declared that he would conu> out again to se(> llu« seals. 
To this 1 had no objection. 

We continued our sightseeing tour. We look in th(> Sutro 
Baths, which are said (o be (he largest in the world; at least 
their advertisements say so. They are near the ocean rocks, 
are roofed over, are large in size and are suijplied with ocean 
water. Broad hallways and i)assageways, in wlii<'h stand 
statues, lead to vast swimming pools, which are liltiMl up with 
all kinds of diving and swinuning ai)paratus. 

Not far from these baths are the Suiro Heights which 
are lofty cliffs overlooking the ocean, and which were owned 
and transformed into a romantic i)ark by Mr. Adolph Sntro, 
a millionaii'e, who died several years ago. Along th(> sea-l'ront, 
Sutro Park has been terraced and battlenuMited, affording 
some inspiring views of the ocean. In tli(> park are statelv 



74 

avenues containing fountains, walks and drives, statuary, 
artistically arranged flower-beds, shade and other trees; 
bosky dells, maze-like pathways, grottoes, pavilions, chalets 
in the Swiss style (Mr. Sutro was a Swiss), and many other 
pretty things. The place is a beauty spot indeed, but since 
the death of Mr. Sutro it has not been kept up in good shape. 

After whiling away quite a little time in this snug re- 
treat, we passed out and strolled through a part of Golden 
Gate Park, which is an extensive and fine domain, containing 
about 1000 acres. In it may be found the usual adjuncts of a 
pleasure spot for the population of a big city. There are 
bird and animal collections, conservatories, merry-go-rounds, 
donkeys, a casino, a Dutch wind-mill; rustic seats and arbors, 
play-grounds for the children, baseball and tennis grounds, 
statuary, flowers, a music stand, stadium, a great museum 
and many other things, but the place is so vast that we finally 
grew tired of walking through it and were glad to get a car to 
take us home again. 

We concluded to round out a pleasant day of sight-seeing 
by attending a theatre tliat evening. 

We paid ten cents each that evening to go into the gallery 
(nigger heaven) of a theatre which was a large one devoted 
to vaudeville. The performance consisted of monologue by a 
chap who was dressed to represent a colored man; of an 
interesting little play; an acrobatic act; singing, dancing, and 
a trained dog and monkey show. It wound up with moving 
pictures. The singing was done by an Australian gentleman 
who sang "The Holy City," and so well did he sing it that he 
was recalled time and again, to which he good-naturally re- 
sponded, but .finally he got tired and made his farewell bow. 
Some people in the audience were not a bit considerate for 
they probably would be recalling him yet had he been willing 
to respond. 

You should have heard Billy laugh at the comicalties of 
the darky monologuist who talked with a table in front of 
him which he occasionally whacked with an umbrella. This 
act was rather a stale one to me, but it was not so to Billy. 



75 

He laughed so heartily and so loudly that he attracted the 
attention of every one in our vicinity. Evidently negro comi- 
calities just suited his taste. To evince his pleasure he 
staniped his feet, clapped his hands and shouted, growing 
red in the face with his exertion. He was a whole show in 
himself, but unconsciously so. After the moving i)ictures had 
been disfWayed we went home, well satisfied with our dime's 
worth of amusement. 

The next morning when we arose we concluded to put in 
one more day of sightseeing and then to seek work, for our 
money was giving out and it would not do to be stranded in 
a large city like San Francisco. There is no fate so sad as 
to be stranded in a large city. 

"Well, Billy, how are we going to imt in this fhie day? 
Where'll we go?" enquired I. 

"I've heard a lot of talk al)out Chinatown. Suppose we go 
there and have a look around?" 

"All right, I'm with you," responded I, cheerfully. 

We enquired our way and had no trouble in finding the 
Chinese quarter, although it is at some distance from south 
of Market street where we lived. We walked to Grant avenue 
which begins at Market street and then up Grant avenue five 
or six blocks, until we came upon the place we were looking 
for. The beginning of the Chinese quarter, for a block or two, 
is occupied by .laps, who live and do business there. They 
own many fine stores which are well-stocked with goods. 

They conduct restaurants, grocery and book stores, curio 
stores and many other kinds, and it is interesting to gaze into 
their store windows. Their goods are peculiar and foreign- 
like, and .Japanese in character. A great many white people 
visit their emporiums, some impelled by curiosity and others 
with the intention of purchasing. Not a few of these estab- 
lishments are very fine. 

The Chinese quarter was a revelation to us, for there 
are scores of streets in it which are built up solidly with 
structures occupied solely by Chinese, and there are hundreds 
of stores of all kinds, from immense three and four-story 



7G 

cuiio stores to cobbler's and fruit stands in the streets along 
side the buildings. Nearly everything sold is for Chinese use, 
though some things are bought by white folks; such as gro- 
ceries, meats, fruit, fish, etc., which are sold more cheaply 
by the Chinese than by the "Melican" man. Along these 
queer streets there are Chinese cigar manufactunng estab- 
lishments, makers of clothing, hats, boots, shoes, underwear, 
Chinese sandals, blouses, caps, etc.; drug stores, jewelry 
stores, barber shops and book stores abound, and itinerant 
vendors who carry their wares on their heads and cry them 
in strange fashion are in evidence, too. Gambling joints, fast- 
houses, temples, great restaurants several stories in height, 
may be seen. Over this whole quarter there hovers an ori- 
ental atmosphere that makes a fellow feel queer. 

Billy wanted to know whether he was in America or 
Asia. I told him, Asia, of course. This Chinatown seemed 
like a pretty good section of some large Chinese city, such as 
Hongkong or Shanghai. T believe there are forty or fifty 
thousand Orientals in San Francisco's Chinatown. The streets 
in this quarter were crammed with Asiatics as Billy and 
I came upon the scene. The iiig-tailed, sandal shod men 
and boys were thick as huckleberries on a bush and occas- 
sionally gaudily attired Chinese women and girls slip-shod 
by us, with their hair done up In black folds with golden pins 
stuck through them and their lips painted a light red; their 
garments were rather gaudy. 

Billy and I were mightily interested in what we saw 
and visited this quarter more than once afterward. It is 
more interesting by gas-light than in the day time, perhaps, 
for then the throngs are greatest. There are guides who will 
show one through Chinatown for a consideration, and take 
one into places where one would not think of going alone, for 
if one did he or she might rue it. 

The day following, we both sallied forth in search of 
work, and I struck a job as helper in a foundry the first thing, 
but Billy was not so fortunate. It was more than a week be- 
fore he found a job, but when he did find one it was a good 



77 

one. He was installed as i)antry-nian in a hotel which was 
conducted by an Englishman, and as Billy was English, he felt 
right at home in the place. It was his duty to take care of 
the glass, silverware and chinaware, and his hours of work 
were from 6 A. M. to 8 P. M. with four hours off during the 
afternoon. His wages were forty dollars a mouth and board, 
and this Billy considered princely. He roomed with me at 
our old shack on Minna street. 

Billy had struck a home and the little cuss was as happy 
and as cheery as a fellow could be. In the pantry where he 
held forth, the waiters (who were nearly all English) brought 
him in the finest of viands to eat, such as chicken, duck, 
goose, pates, oysters, rich puddings, pies, wines, etc., and 
the happy little fellow was living off the fat of the land be- 
sides getting good wages. The waiters brought all these 
good things in to Billy and were sociable enough to help him 
eat them, for they were cast off vituals, that other people had 
left, and would have gone into the garbage can if Billy and his 
mates had not disposed of them. No eatables were allowed 
to be carried off the premises, though, by employes, which 
Billy regretted, for he wanted to bring me some of the good 
things to eat. I did not care for them nuich, but 1 was glad 
to know that the little fellow was getting along so well and 
that he was hai)py and contented. 

My job was a pretty hard one, but T held it down in good 
shape and got good wages. I had no kick coming. 



CllAl'^l'KIl VII. 
BILLY AND I CHAT. 

'Plir vv(>;i(li(M' in San Francisco diirinj; tlio wintrr months 
was snnny, balmy and boantifnl for the tomi)eratnre was not 
much over or under (!0 degrees which is neither hot nor cold, 
l)n( si)ring-lii<c'. During- the sumnicr time the tenijierature is 
tlie same, about CO degrees, but th(>re is more or less log, and 
this log is raw. damp, and penetrating. Thus, even paradise 
has its drawbacks. In the summer time the ladies — or some 
of Iheni — go about dressiMl in furs; and wiiile people in otlxM' 
Stales swelter, here they are cool and many of them, cold. 

Trees and llowers bloomed in the ojien during my stay 
that winter in I^'risco, and orang(>s, lemons and other semi- 
tropical fi'uits ii|)ened. It seemed like sjjring; not winter, 
there. 

Billy and I worktMl faitlifully and steadily al our jobs, 
coming honu> to our room ever> night and remaining there 
as a general thing, but sometimes we took a stroll through 
Chinatown or elsewhere, or attended a theatre. 

One night in .lanuary while the rain was coming down 
heavily and making us feel that it never would let up. Billy 
and I sat before a cheery lire, smoiied our pipes and chatted. 

"Billy," said 1, "you have told me so much about the old 
country that I've got into lhi> notion of going there. I have 
been thinking the matter over a long time, and I have re- 
solved to take a trip across the ocean next spring." 

"The deuce yovi say," answered Billy in snri)rlse; "what 
do you want to go ov(>r there for?" 

"To do the Britishers; what else?" 

"Say. Windy, you'ie clean off. You couldn't do a 
Britisher — as yon call him —out of a. i)enny's worth, lor he 



79 

has been up to Kuin sanies for centuries, niul i( will have lo 
be a j)rett.v elevei- ehap who can induce one oT my couulry- 
in(>n to IkhkI ouI juiylliiu;; lo :\ cadgcM'. 'riicy'vc seen too 
many." 

"douldn"! I hrjit my way tluMc liic sjiinc as I can here?" 

"No, you could not," asserted 15illy, cmpluilically. "The 
railroad cars and every thing else ovci' tlurc are different 
from what they are here. The people are dil'fcrenl; their 
ways are different; their dress, si)eech, methods of doing l)usi- 
ness are different; tlieir i)olitics ai'e dit'fiM'ent " 

"Hold on. Hilly, I don't want lo go over lher(> lo run I'oi' 
ofliee." 

"Wlio said you did? I am only explaiuiu.i; HiiuKS to \tn\. 
1 waul lo sIh)vv you lu)w din'(M-enl evei'y lliiug is done on llie 
other side. 'IMie towns are close together I'or IOu^;!aud is a 
small country coniijured with this, and you eouldu'l heal a 
train a mile bel'ore you'd l)e si)olted and ari'ested. Ami llieu 
the railroad cars, they are allogetlier diiT<'renl from wiial 
they are here, 'fhey ar(^ lil(e stage-coaciies and liave I'ool- 
boards running along on botli sides to enal)le passengers lo 
get on or olT. There are no lirake-bearus. uo bumpeis, no 
biiiul-baggage, uo I'ods uoliiiug lo ride on. You eouldu'l. 
beat your way at all on sucli Iraius. 

"(Jo on Billy; you're giving me a fairy tale." 

"1 am nol. I'm telling you the truth, the whole, ami notli 
ing but the Irulli," earnestly declared IMIly. 

"So help Nou. Moses," put in I, irreverently. 

"No nouseiise, Windy; I'm serious." 

"Oh, \()U ai'e, are \()u '.' Well, then lei's bear sometliiug 
S(>iious. Don'l tell me any fairy tales." 

"I've been telling you tlie Irulli, Windy; if you don't be- 
lieve me yon don't have lo. Mind now, what I am telling 
you. You'll wish you'd never been born if yon go to lOngland 
without any money. What do you want to go ovei- tluMC for, 
anyway. Isn't this country big enougli for you'.' If you want 
to 'do' people, I'd advise you to sla.\ in youi' own eounti'y 
where you understand the people, ami 'do' them. lOngland 



80 

is small, the people are numerous, and the poor so many 
that you'd want to make tracks for home in a week. Mind 
now, this is straight talk I'm giving you and no lies." 

"You have asked me what I want to do over in England, 
Billy, but I haven't told you all there is in my mind yet. I 
want to go over there for three purposes — to see the country 
and get acquainted with the people; to take notes; and to 
put my notes into book form." 

Billy stared at me fixedly for a few moments as a dog 
does a human being whom it is trying to understand but can- 
not, and then suddenly he threw himself on the bed and 
laughed and laughed and laughed, until I thought he'd burst. 

"What's tickling you, Billy?" asked I, grinning, for his 
antics were funny. "What did I say that's funny? Darned 
if I know?" 

"You-you-are-going-to-write-a — " here he had another 
spasm worse than the other. After the fit was over, he sat up 
and had the assurance to say, "I've traveled with you a long 
time, Windy, but I never suspected until now that you're 
touched in the upper story. I'm surprised at you. What! 
you write a book? What do you know about book-writing?" 

"I don't know much, but I'm going to try to learn," replied 
I calmly. 

"Do you know anything about composition, grammar, 
punctuating, history, geography, Latin or Greek?" 

"Not a deuce of a lot, but I've made up my mind"to relate 
my experiences in my own way, and I am going to do it." 

"Do you know what you are undertaking? How are 
you going to get across the ocean in the first place?" 

"In a boat of course; how did you get across?" 

"Do you intend to pay your fare or beat it?" 

"Don't know yet Billy; haven't decided. I'll get across 
somehow, leave that to me. I've accomplished bigger things 
than that without getting hurt any." 

"And, then, when you get back to this country, and its 
doubtful if you ever will, who's going to print your book for 
you?" 



81 

"Oh, that's a long way off. I'll wait until I get to a river 
before I cross it. What's the use planning so far ahead?" 

"I suppose you expect to grow wealthy and famous after 
your book is printed? Will you give me one?" Billy was 
bantering me now. 

"Sure! If one ain't enough I'll give you two." 

"When you grow famous I suppose you'll cut me the 
first thing. Some people get the big-head when they get up 
in the world, and there's no living with them. Are you going 
to be like that?" 

That Billy was bantering me I could plainly see, so I 
answered him in the same strain. "No, Billy, I believe 1 
have too much sense to act that way. Why should the spirit 
of mortal be proud. The astronomers have photographed 
up to date, over fifty-three million planets, or stars, every 
one of which is larger than this earth of ours, and there arc 
Incalculable millions of planets that their photographic ap- 
paratus will never discover, which shows what a small atom 
man is. So why should the spirit of mortal be proud? No, 
Billy; I shall never get the swelled-head, believe me; no 
matter what happens." 

"I expect to see you drive a coach-and-four some day, 
with a coachman beside you on the box and a flunky behind; 
or maybe you'll be driving tandem in a smart rig, tooling 
along in great shape; maybe you'll have the latest make of 
automobile. I suppose you'll have a box at the opera, too, 
and take your lady-love to supper after the play is over. Be 
lots of champagne flowing about that time, eh?" 

"Oh, let up, you darned little Britisher," said I, laughing; 
"stranger things than that have happened." 

"Which bank are you going to deposit your money in?" 
asked Billy, with a huge grin. 

"Never you mind, I'll put it where you can't get it. You'll 
get none of my wealth." 

"I thought so. A rich and famous man never has any use 
for his poor friends or relatives. Of course I'll get the cut 
direct as soon as you get rich?" 



82 

"You ain't far wrong about that, Billy. A fellow's 
friends try to keep him down, but when he is up they're will- 
ing to share his prosperity. They'd feel hurt if he wouldn't 
let them." 

"Are you giving me a hint? Well, Windy, I think you 
have planned too big an undertaking, and I don't think you'll 
succeed. That's my honest opinion." 

"So then, you, my friend, my pardner, wish to dis- 
courage me?" 

"Oh, no; but I think you are trying to bite off more than 
you can chew." 

"Am I the first fellow to attempt to write a book?" 

"No, you ain't the first nor the last darn fool who has 
tried it. What do you know about book-writing anyway?" 

"Well, Billy, I know very little, but I can relate what I 
wan't to say without any frills, and maybe it will interest 
some people. I shall not use big words and high-ke-fluked 
language to show people what I don't know, but I will be 
plain and direct and put on no style. What I have to say will 
be told simply. If people want to read fine writing, let them 
take up the Bible, Shakespeare, Milton, Tasso, Homer, etc., 
for I ain't in their class." 

"What class are you in. Windy?" 

"In a class by myself. I don't want no critics. I'm going 
to get up my book in my own way, and put it on the market 
in my own way too. 

"That's right, old pard. I'd advise you to steer clear of 
the critics, for if they get on to you, there won't be anything 
left of you." 

This roused me like a trumpet. "The critics," ex- 
claimed I, "would not condescend to fly at such small game 
as I am, and if they did I'd get on my front legs and kick 
ai'ound pretty lively. You remember what your countryman. 
Lord Byron did to the critics? Why, in his English Bards 
and Scotch Reviewers, he just pulverized them. To Jeffrey 
especially did he pay his compliments. Had he stopped at 
lambasting the critics it would have been well enough, but 



83 

he took to lampooning and satirizing such writers as Sir 
Walter Scott, Southey and others, which was entirely un- 
necessary on his part for they had not been hurting him any. 
It was a display of poor judgment on his part for he did not 
distinguish between friend and foe. But he was young then, 
and erratic." 

"Do you mean to say that Byron said ill-natured things 
about Southey?" 

"Yes, I do. There are Byron's poems on tne rack behind 
you. Let us have a look at them." 

I got the book and turned to " English Bards and Scotch 
Reviewers," from which I read the following extracts to Billy 
who listened intently: 

"A man must serve his time to every trade 
Save censure — critics are all ready made. 

Take hackneyed jokes from Miller, got by rote 

With just enough of learning to misquote; 
A mind well skilled to find or forge a fault; 
A turn for punning — call it attic salt; 

To Jeffrey go, be silent and discreet 

His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet: 
Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a sharper hit; 
Shrink not from blasphemy 'twill pass for wit — 

Care not for feeling — pass your proper jest. 

And stand a critic, hated, yet caressed." 

"Then should you ask me why I venture o'er 

The path which Pope and Gifford trod before — 
If not yet sickened you can still proceed: — 
Go on; my rhyme will tell you as you read. 

'But hold!' exclaims a friend, here's some neglect. 

This, that and t'other line seems incorrect.' 

What then? the self-same blunder Pope has got. 
And careless Dryden — ay but Pye has not: — 

Indeed, 'tis granted, faith! but what care I? 

Better to err with Pope than shine with Pye." 



"Next view in state, proud prancing on his roan, 

The golden-crested, haughty Marmion; 

Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight, 
Not quite a felon, yet but half a knight. 



84 

The gibbet or the fiehl prepared to grace — 

A mighty mixture of the great and base. 

And thinkest thou, Scott! by vain conceit perchance 
On public taste to foist thy stale romance, 

Though Murray with his Miller may combine 

To yield thy muse just half a crown per line?'' 

******* Jit 

"Oh Southey! Southey! cease thy varied song! 

A bard may chant too often and too long; 
The babe unborn thy dread intent may rue 
God help thee, Southey, and thy readers, too." 

"Now, Billy, you see how angry the critics made Byron 
and how he kept sloshing around not caring whom he hit, 
friend or foe. Guess the critics were sorry they stirred him 
up. He has made these critics famous, or infamous, forever. 
Don't he say, Billy, that 'a man must serve his time at every 
trade save censure, because critics are all ready made?' I 
guess that's no lie, but I'm going to try to coon the critics." 

"How?" asked Billy. 

"By dealing with the public direct and letting each reader 
of my book be his own critic." 

Billy stared. He did not understand me, nor did I care 
to enlighten him just then. 

"Say, Windy, if you ain't a little off, I'll eat my hat." 

"That's what my friends have always told me. They said 
I was unlike everyone else. When I was young I used to be 
romantic, and would wander forth to the country gazing at 
the stars and vowing to do great things. I was solitary and 
lone in my habits — I did not care to mix in with the push; I 
was a student; an idle dreamer; a good-for-nothing; caring 
naught for anything but art and literature, and not giving a 
darn for the practical and every-day affairs of life. I had a 
hard time of it, Billy, and so had my folks, who discarded me 
as an incorrigible. I cannot blame them, for I gave them a 
world of trouble and they were far more tolerant of me 
than they should have been. I've seen lots of trouble, Billy, 
but just the same I'm going to write that book." 



85 

Billy grinned. "Are you going to be one of them realistic 
writers, or just a romance writer?" 

"Realism, Billy, every time. Fact is stranger than fic- 
tion. If it is related right it will prove more interesting than 
fiction. There are lots and lots of people who have had 
more wonderful experiences during their life-time than I 
have, and if they were to publish them, they would prove in- 
teresting." 

"Suppose I try my hand?" suggested Billy. 
"Try your luck. You may do better than I could." 
" 'Taint in my line. Windy. I want something more to my 
taste." 

"I've noticed you have a weakness for poultry." 
"True enough; but that's better than poetry, isn't it? 
What use is poetry?" 

"Of what use are any of the arts? .Tust a taste, a bias, 
a little inclination that is all." 

"Have you got any genius?" suddenly asked Billy with 
a huge grin. 

"Not so as you can notice it," responded I. "Why?"^ 
"Well, if you have no genius how can you write a book? 
It takes genius to write a book, doesn't it?" 

"Oh, I don't know, Billy. Pope, the poet, has said: 
'Some books an even tenor keep 
'We cannot blame indeed, but we may sleep,' 
by which he means to imply, I take it, that some books are 
written carefully, faultlessly and grammatically, but they 
don't say anything — they put people to sleep. I'd like to give 
them an eye-opener, Billy, something to keep them from going 
off into the land of nod." 

"How will you do it. Windy?" 
"By giving them facts told in a plain way.'^ 
After a pause Billy asked me: "Did you ever read the 
'Piccadilly Puzzle' or 'The Mysteries of a Hansom Cab'?" 
He kept a straight face while asking the question, although 
I suspected that he was bantering me. 

"No, what are they; detective stories?" 



8() 

"Yes. sonutliini; on th:il oiiler. Do y<)u like detective 
Stories ?■■ 

"You bet 1 do, if \hv\ ;ire tin- li.ulit kind. 1 have road 
nearly all of Allan IMnkerton's books, and not only did I 
find them interesting, but instructive as well. Allan Pinker- 
ton was not only a detective of towerin.s; genius, but a 
great writer. His writings are lucid and clear, and no 
one who ever read one of his books will want to commit a 
crime, for the great detective depicted the penalty so well 
that he who reads will think deeply before attempting it." 

"Do they have Pinkerton's books in the public libraries?" 
asked Billy, with his jaw stuck up in an aggressive way. 

"For some reason they do not have them, but they ou.ght 
to, for no better or wiser books were ever written. Allan 
Pinkerton was as good a writer as he was a detective, and 
that is saying a great deal. His 'Spy of the Rebellion' which 
treats of the adventures of a spy during the civil war in this 
country, is as iiojiular to-day as when it first appeared. It is 
read by multitudes of i)eople who find it absorbingly interest- 
ing. When you lnki> lliat book up you will bate to lay it 
down and you will not fall asleep over it. The language in 
it is plain and direct but not flowery, and the attempt is made 
to state facts only. 1 have also read 'The Molly IMaguires 
and Detectives,' by Pinkerton, which treats of an order of coal 
miners who flourished in Pennsylvania at one time, and were 
desiieiate fellows." 

"Something like tlu' d\namiters of to-day'.'" queried 
Billy. 

"Yes." responded 1. "One of Piukerlon's operatives, as 
he calls his detectives, (McParland was the name, if I re- 
member right) disguised himself and joined the Molly Ma- 
guires. He ferreted out their secrets. He had a dreadful 
time of it, and his exiieriences as related by Pinkerton are 
worth residing. Then be wrote 'Buchholz and Detectives.' 
which relates in a graphic way how a young German chap 
who was not thoroughly bad was tempted to kill his rich em- 
l)loy(>r for money. The pricks of conscience of Buchholz, 



87 



liis siil)l( I I'li^^cs, liis ( \|)cri('iiccs in prison, clc. arc lojd ho 
idiiinly iiiKJ railiilullv l)y llic fArcal (iclcclivc tlial one can al- 
ni()s( I'cci as HncliimJ/, Irll, and can nndcrstnud liovv one l'(>cls 
wlicu <)nt> conunits murder. M is all so (rn(>, ho li<irril)l.\ (rnc, 
tluit i( pains one, I 'ndonlil edly liie wa.v of llie I ransKiessor 
is hard. 

"()llu>r l)()(il<s liial. I'inl<( rion lias wriU<>n aic 'SlriiicrB, 
Coinnninisls and I )etecl ives'; 'l'li(> lOxpressnian and |)t>ti>c- 
tives;' "riie IVIJHsisBippi Onllaws and Deleclives;' "I'iie llail- 
I'oad I'^or^er and l)(>t(>el ives ; ' "Manlv i{()l>l)ers and l)elecliv(<H; ' 
'I'rol'cssional Tiiii-ves and I )(leel i\ cs ; ' 'riiiily Years a Deler- 
(iv(>:' and several olhers, neaiiy all of which I have read and 
round K()<)(1. 

"In oiK> ol" his hooks I'inkcrlon made I he lollowinn ti'iie 
remarks: 'Weeks and months may elapse Ijei'ore a criminal 
is hronKliI to l>iiy, hut I liave never known il to Tail liial (kv 
(cclion will rollow crime as snrei\ as tiie shadow will follow 
a moviuK hod.N in Ihc f^lare ol' snnli,i;hl.' Mow does thai sti'lke 
you. lUlly?" 

".lust rij;ht. I helieve I'inkerliui knew what he was lalk- 
in.n ahout. lie ou^lil lo have liiiown, an.\\va.\." 

"rinkerlon niusi liaxc lieen a HkIH ninn si rikci ,"' added 
l!ill.\. as he shook the ashes Ifom his pipe into llie stove and 
then l)e.L;an to loa<l it up a.L;ain. I answer<Ml: "(indoulitedly 
he was; and he was a man of uncommon ahilil.v in his line, 
ir hoys wei'c to iiad true d(>((>ctive Hlories instead of tho 
lake ones lha,( they read, il would he inncli belter I'or tlieni. 
See wliat hoys read, will sou! .\houl Diamond Dick, wlio was 
another Admirable Crichton, for he escaped every danger by 
the skin of his teelh. 'Tlie kids JusI dote on such literature 
but (here isn't a word of truth in il. lU^t.ler nut read at all 
than to i(>a(l such things." 

"WIio ai'e the critics and book reviewers in this conn- 
try?" asked lUlly. 

"VVliy, as I'ai- as I know, th(>y ar(> writers who are hired 
and paid by newspapers, inaKazines, monthlies and oilier 
publications (o .L;ivi' their opinion upon books that are sen! 



88 

in for review by the piiblishiiij^- housi s. Some of these critics 
are painstal\ins, careful and conscientious people, but some 
are not. A few critics are writers of ability but not of genius, 
who are not capable of doing anything great, but who, never- 
theless, can do good work. As they have no genius them- 
selves they cannot fathom the genius of others, but they try 
to be fair as critics. Having been through the mill, they can 
tell what good grist is when they see it. 

"Then there are savants and college professors who 
sometimes take a whack at reviewing, and a bad job they 
make of it. These fellows are pedagogues, pedants, learned 
men who are saturated with learning to the skin. They are 
masters in Greek, Latin, geometry, calculus, fleebotomy, 
mathematics, the sciences, and many other abstruse and dif- 
ficult branches of study. They are walking dictionaries, en- 
cyclopedias, |)rofound scholars, but they have no more native 
wit than a block of wood. They have learned a great deal 
and can teach and demonstrate what they knew 
have no originality — no genius. They follow but they cannot 
lead. 

"These learned chaps sometimes review books for the 
newspapers but they are out of their element. I read one 
book, Billy, which was written by an able physician who tried 
to demonstrate what genius is. He wrote all around the sub- 
ject without saying anything, and plainly showed that he had 
no genius himself nor had he the least idea what it is. Among 
other things he made the assertion as other learned men and 
savants have done, that men of genius usually are crazy. 
Think of that, Billy!" 

"I don't think the professors are wrong about that." 

"You think they ar(> right, eh, Billy?— Edison, Pinkerton, 
Morse, Bell, Marconi, Pope, Dryden, Shakespeare, Spencer, 
Milton, Dickens, Scott, Byron, Burns, Washington, Lincoln, and 
a host of other men in all walks of life have clearly demon- 
strated that they have, or have had, the divine spark — were 
they crazy?" 



89 

"Oh, the Anieric;m writers don't amount to much," 
sneeringly put in Billy. "I have seen it stated in Anierican 
papers, that the American novel has not yet been written." 

"I suppose you think all things that are great come I'rom 
h'old h'England, do you?" retorted 1 with a sn( er. "It isn't 
so, and 1 can prove it." 

"Fire away, then; you'll have a hard job convincing me; 
I'll tell you that beforehand." 

"Maybe you don't want to be convinced?' 
"To be sure I do, if you can convince me." 
"I'll try, anyway," retorted 1. "Billy, the American novel 
was written when the American Republic was first born, and 
many a one has since Ijeen written that was never eclipsed 
in any other country. Of course you have heard of .John 
Jacob Astor who came to this country soon after the American 
Republic was proclaimed? He was a man of wonderful busi- 
ness ability, of genius, T may say. Among his other ventures 
he embarked in the fur business. He went into it on a large 
scale, employed hundreds of agents and trai)pers whom he 
sent into the wilds of the northwest to establish permanent 
stations and trade with the Indians for furs. He required 
his head agents at the various stations to send to him monthly 
reports, notifying him of what was being done, and some of 
these reports made good reading. Some of the chief agents 
were clever, well-educated men who could write as well as 
act. Washington Irving, a member of a wealthy Knicker- 
bocker family in New York, was a personal friend of Mr. 
Astor, and Mr. Astor asked Irving if he would care to write 
a book based on these reports from the northwest. Mr. 
Irving said he would try. He took the reports and licked them 
into shape. He wrote a book called 'Astoria' which is by 
long odds the best book on the subject of the early north- 
west that ever was written, and so good is it that it has 
become a standard work in literature. It is a narrative in 
the form of a novel and evinces genius of a high order. 
Astoria is only one of the American novels. Then take 
Irving's Rip Van Winkle, which grows more popular as time 



90 

rolls on. It is ;ui rx(HM'(liii,i;ly able and clovor talo doscMMltinf; 
the charactiMistirs and habits of Iho Dutch who settled in 
New York during the last c(M\tnry. It is written in such a 
clever. reHned and jolly way thai its i)0])ularity increases 
instead of diminishes. It, too, is a classic. 'Phis is another of 
the American novels. WashinRton Irving's 'Life of Columbus' 
is another. It is a profoundly clever, careful and pains-taking 
work. It will conipare favorably with any other book written 
on the same siibject. It shows patient research, a conscien- 
tioiis desire to slate facts only, and a coherence of narration 
tlial riMidiMs it (he eciual of any novel ever writtt^n. My coun- 
try has producid a raft of ixvvni writers besides Washington 
Irving. You must r(>member that this coiuitry is not as old a 
one as yours, and that we have not dim and remote history 
to draw ui)on. We have not the Middle Ages with its castles, 
its knights, its jousts, its tournaments, kings, queens, nobles 
and other grand folk, nor the brilliant doings of courts. No. 
this country is in its infancy, and American writers have de- 
scribed faithfully, accurately and well the life that lluy know, 
and a few of them \\a\o shown genius of a high ortler in 
doing it. .\s a poet, no one surpasses Longfellow: Bryant 
was good, and so was .John CJ. Saxe, Whittier, Lowell and a 
few others, all of whom rank high and their works are clas- 
sics. .'Vmong prose writers of greater or less ability, we have 
Uowells, Parkman the Historian of the Northwest (a pains- 
taking and able writer), Rex Heach, ,lack London, Amelia 
Barr, William Barr, Octave Thanet. and a host of others too 
numerous to mention." 

"Hid you ever read 'Uaniona,' Billy'.'" 

■non't riMuemixM' tlial I did,"' replicMl Billy. "What's it 
all about'.*" 

"The book was written l)y lleliMi Hunt .laekson to create 
sympathy for the Indians. " 

"Who was Helen lluiu .laekson'.'" 

"Search me. but I read her book and found it to be good 
reading. This writer describes Soutiiern California as it liad 
never been described before, and her descrii)tions of the conn- 



nt 

try iirc so ;ic<'Ui:ilc, llic (lowcis, hers, rlc, an- so wi'll dc- 
scrilii'd. Ilic iialiiral sccih s arc portrayed so vividly, and liu> 
cliaraclcrs in licr hooli arc so niiiuitcly and liiiliirMliy drawn, 
that liic woik 1h I'anlllcsH. Over it iHcrc lioverw an air ol' 
siieli lii^li art llial llic liooix nia.v lie accepted as a nia;;tcr 
piece. II lias had a uood .sale ami is deservedly popiilai. It 
is a (dassie ol' its ivind. 

Haniona. wild is Hie heroine of the liii(d\. is a lovalde char 
act(M'. She marries an liidian of a nidile :ind nniiily Uind wiio 
is t)iipres.s<'d li> tile While man, and whose personalil > is 
(dearly port ra.M'd. 

Dun riiilip mid lii?; iiinllier are also well drawn as is every 
cliar.iclec in the hook. ,\ll are realistic. Kcniiona is one (d' 
those kind ol' Imoks thai were wrillcn for a piiipose. 'riii- 
;4irii'(l anihoress endea\(n(Ml to create s.vnipatliv for llic Ued 
ni.an liul her s\iiipatli.\ (HilriiiK^ her Jndr.nienI, if 1 nia\' make 
hold to say so, I'lir tlie Kid man m <'ils no s.\nipath\', I'tu' lh(> 
Toiiowin^; r(>asons: 

.Ml new connlries are hoiiml lo lie selllcd up eventually 
l).\ civili/ed men. hi;^ hodies (d' land will h(^ Hiihdi vi(h'd, and 
all '■vaiinini" niiisl ,i;<>. 'I'lic marcji ol' (d vili/.al ion is oiiwar(i, 
(>ver onw.'ird. The Indian has lieeii irealed I'airls li\ I'lude 
Sam who has Ki\'cii him vast sums of money .'ind is still do- 
inn so aiiniiall.N' ev(>n now h(> has ^iven the Indian rarminu 
impl(<menls arid taiiKlit liim how to {'arm, he « dncales him in 
Kood H(diools l'r(M> ol' (diarK<', a.iid in ev<'ry way <!oes whal lie 
can I'or tlieni. Some of I'lude Sam's agents liirncd oiil to Ix^ 
thieves and rascals wliicdi was deploralde. Hmde Sam has 
troubles of his own, Ihererore, as W(dl as the Indian. If the 
ilidian does not wisli to lie civili/ed hd him i',o liad^ lo the 
woods and starve. That is his alTair. Thai is. all llicre is 
to the Indian (pnslion that I can see. In her leiidei. womanly 
heart. Mrs. Ihdeii lliinl .la(d<soii may he rl^lil iihoiil Uio 
Indian, and I nia.\ he wronR. I do nol wisli to pose as an 
oracde. ,\t any rate, "Kaniona" is the AiiH'ricaii nov(d. 

"Anollier hool< Ihat was written for a purpose was 
Harrifd Mee(dier Slowe's Hmde Tom's Cahin. Tills liooU 



92 

helped to abolish negro slavery. The book is a classic and is 
the American novel. 

After she had gained fame, Mrs. Stowe went 1o Europe 
where she became acquainted with the wife of Lord Byron, 
who told her some scandalous things about the great poet 
which Mrs. Stowe repeated, bringing odium on the poet. She 
should not have done that. Mrs. Stowe's family was not so 
immaculate itself, and people who live in glass houses should 
not throw stones. 

"You I'emember the celebrated Henry Ward Beecher case 
In Brooklyn, do you not, Billy?" 

"To be sure I do," responded Billy. 

"Well, Henry Ward Beecher was a brother of Harriet 
Beecher Stowe and a man of great genius himself. It does 
not pay, Billy, to repeat scandalous or slanderous stories. 
What do you think?" 

"Of course it doesn't. I liked Uncle Tom's Cabin very 
well. When I read of the death of little Eva it made me cry 
and I felt sorry for poor Uncle Tom. I would like to have 
booted that devil, Simon Legree. But, it is getting pretty 
late, Windy, hadn't we better turn in?" 

"What time is it?" asked I. 

"Quarter to twelve," responded Billy. 

"As late as that?" asked 1 in surprise; "well, I guess we 
had better go to bed then. 

We both turned in and soon were asleep. Many another 
conversation did we have during the long winter nights on 
many topics, but it was mostly about my contemplated trip 
abroad that we spoke of. Billy did not want to talk about 
the book I intended to write, but I could not help talking 
about it, for I dreamed about it, sleeping or waking. Billy 
bantered me every time I mentioned the subject but that 
only made me grin. I took his sarcasms goodnaturedly. 

Deep down in his heart I knew there was a feeling that 
Billy did not like me to leave him, and I felt that it would be 
an awful wrench for me to part from him, for we had a 
sneaking regard for each other. He was the steadiest, true- 



93 

heartedest little friend I had ever had, but I could not afford 
to sacrifice my ambition for him. I had marked out a line 
of conduct for myself which I proposed to follow, and nothing 
and no one could divert me from it. It was to be success or 
failure with me, and no one can gain success if he does not 
try for it. To gain success (or failure) one must sometimes 
leave father and mother, sister and brother, relatives, 
sweetheart and friend, for in this world a time will come 
anyway when we must part. That is the way I looked at it. 
To part from Billy, though, was going to be a hard wrench, 
and I looked forward to it with sorrow, but the anticipation 
was worse than the reality. Billy tried his best to persuade 
me from going on a wild goose chase, as he called it, and 
finally, one evening, when he saw his arguments were of no 
avail, he became huffy about it and told me that I might go 
to the devil if I wished for all he cared. He had no strings 
on me, he assured me, and did not give a rap what became of 
me. 

He hoped I'd get drowned crossing the ocean, and if not 
that, then he hoped I'd get arrested as soon as I set foot on 
British soil. A dose of British jail might do me good, he de- 
clared, and might take the conceit out of me, if such a thing 
were possible. He wished he could be present when I tried 
to "do" a Britisher, just to see what would happen. I'd 
learn something I never knew before, he assured me. The 
little cuss was worked up, but I only grinned, which got him 
more angry still. 



(Ml \I"I'10I{ VIII. 
BEATING IT OVERLAND 

II was lli(> iiioiidi of Miircli wiiicli I luul sol for in,\ (!<>- 
parturc llic lall(>i' pari iil' il lor wlicii lli(> spring opcMis ui) 
ill llic lOasI, (li(> wcatluT warms up a l)il and Inwolin};' is not 
so iiiiH'li ol a liardsliip. Of course, I did not inlond to pay 
aii\ railroad t'jucs across llic coiitinont. as I intiMidcd io Itcat 
il, for what is lh(> use helping to 1111 (ho railroail colTcrs it' 
vou don't lia\c lo'.' I had casil.v oarnod onou,t;h inon(\ to pa.v 
ni\ wa\, liul I spent what I earned as I'asl as 1 made il tor 
as I told Hill.v nH)re tliaii once wIkmi w»> wtM(> tailviii.i; matters 
over, if \ ou heat vonr \va\ witli mou»\v in \()ur pocket and 
some hoi's hud out thai .\ou ha\(> mone\ . it is more than 
lilicl.v that sou will he iudd up or murdered oudi.uhl I'or it. 
Some 'l)ot>s slop al nolliin,^ not evcMi murder- to gain (iieir 
ends. Many a li«)rrihle crime has i)een committcMJ and little 
or notliin.t; has h*>iMi said al)oiit il, I'or who is ,ni»ini; lo holhci' 
iuu<'h ovei' a hoho who has di(>d smidenly'.' Such a chap has 
IH) I'rieiids to make a line or cry for him, so w liy put the 
coiiiiiiiinit\ to aii\ i;real ironhh" or e\|)ense I'm' him'.' 

The lalerul da.\ of departure drew nijih. 1 thi(>w up my 
.joli. drew my pay and ,i;ot rt>ady for the j(nirm\\ . I did not 
need a Saratoga trunk, rugs, shawls, a l«"'rench pot)dl«\ a green 
parrot in a cage, or other such ai)purtenanccs. l)ul 1 did hn.v a 
pair (d' new hlankets, for I had hurtled mine. 

When Hilly and I loidv up our tihode on Minna Sirect and 
hroughl our hlankets llii're, after giving a glance at tluMii 
our landlady suggested that we take fheiii out in the hack 
yard and hiirn iIumu. We would not lU'ed Iheni in San Fran- 
cisco she said. Mayhe she thought the hlankets were inhali- 
itod. hut they were not. Hilly and 1 did as we were requested. 



OR 



I'dr llic IiIiimKcIh wnc |ti(>ll\ old any \v;iv iukI had .u'cii (licir 
(la.\, 

Tlial was all IIm- (miIIH I lu-idcd lor ihi' hip a pah' of 
new lilaiiKclM. I had a lew dollaiH In my pocKol and II' any 
liiin;', ( Isc were iiccdi'd I could Imy II alone, the ronlc 

'rh(> morn anlvcd. and I had lo hid Itllly f.oodliNc I 
ihIkIiI lis wril say Iho linlh lliiil I IVll more IIIm- cinImk liian 
lan^liiiu; Ixil I JoKt'd ami lianloi'cd Hilly and j'.ol him lannii- 
Inu iiiid sancN as \vo||. 

"W'liy don'l nou swim across llic lilllc dncK pond, 
W'indyV" sarcasl Ically sn)X<"!^'li'<l Mllly. 

"itccaiisc I don'l know how lo swim," 

"Oil. ,\on'll ,",c( drowned, laiic," said Itllly. 

"iVUkIiI iiM W( I! lie ihowni'd as hanr.od, W'hal's Iho dll', 
iiiiywny ?" 

"^'ou■ll n( \i'r earn cnon/'.h lo I'.rt onl ol' llic old connlry." 
llill.N' assured mc. 

"MIkIiI IIS well li(> I'ound di'ad liiere as anywhere (dse. 1 
can live and die llure. As I'ar as r.<'lll"r. on' "!' Ilie old 
counlr.N, Ihoirc.h, I lhini^ \'ou can sal'ely |ea\'e Ihal lo me. I 
can work ni>' passa.i'.e home or slow awa.s, I'm an old llmcr, 
I am. and il's prelly hai'd lo coon nic \i>\i hear um-'.'" snid 
I .jokhpU.N , hul will) a sol) In my hcarl. 

"Oh, \('s I hear you," relorled IMII.n wllh a sneer. "You're 
a know all you are. I'lly your mollier had no more like you." 

'"rime lo )',0, Itlll.\. (luess I'll have lo leave you," 

"So, ,\(iu're heul on r.oinr, llien, you r.ol darned old slllT. 
do Iheii, whose a holdlnr, <>l .\ou':' hou'l lake In an.\ had 
mon<'.\ while yim're (■.(Uic." 

"All rUvlil, inily. I'll ohcy orders, (ioodhye!" 

Wo shook hands, parled, and I lel'l Ihe house. I |(dl 
;j;lum and do li(die\'e I dropped a h'ur somewhere, hi'il whal 
was Ihe use ol' repininr,':' 'The hesl of I'rlend.s musi |iail 
sonu'liuKv II lit onl.N a (pn'Slhui ol' lime. 

I paid rerrla^;e across lo Oakland and look a Hi I'col <'iir 
from Ihere lo I'oinI Ulclimond. Al Ihe laller lown I .lumped 
a. in ir.hl lo Saci'anienio and had no Irouhle al all In /'.elllnr. 



96 

to Sac. It was my intention to travel to New Yorlv via the 
central route, that is, by way of Reno, Ogden, Omaha, Chi- 
cago, Niagara Falls and Buffalo for I had been over this 
route before and knew it pretty well. It is a three-thousand- 
mile journey and a long one, but there are lots of things to 
see along the route. 

How glorious is the spring time! How it stirs the blood, 
thrills one, awakens ambition, puts new life into everything, 
charms and enthuses one! Shakespeare has said that in the 
spring time one's thoughts lightly turn to love; another poet 
said, "Young man, thy blood is rosy red, thy heart is soft," 
and I guess he knew what he was talking about, too. My 
heart was bubbling o'er with anticipation, hope and enthusi- 
asm. I had set out for a high purpose and I was going to ac- 
complish that purpose. What love I had, though, was only 
for poor little Billy whom I had left behind me, and whose 
company I missed sadly for awhile, especially at night, as 
I traveled all alone. The lone and dreary watches of the 
night seemed awful. Then I missed Billy most and then I 
remembered what a pleasant and lively companion he was. 
During the day-time though, the many new sights 1 saw kept 
me eager, alert and interested. 

At Newcastle in the foothills of the Sierras, the fruit- 
belt, a number of refrigerator cars were attached to my 
train, and had I crawled into one of them I could have made 
the journey to the eastern coast in ten days or less, for these 
cars are filled with perishable stuff and are rushed right 
through. Many a 'bo beats his way across the continent in 
these cars and thinks nothing of it, but I didn't like that way 
of traveling. The refrigerator cars are boxed in and sealed 
when loaded, the only light or air penetrating through them 
coming through a little sliding door that opens at the roof. 
The car is dark as a pocket or as dark as a cell in a prison, 
which surely is gloomy enough. Ice is put into a compart- 
ment of the car to keep the air cool and sweet,, and as the 
whole interior is pretty well tilled up there is barely room to 
turn around in. There are no facilities for washing, cooking, 



97 

or performing the other essentials of nature, so I conchided 
that taking everything into consideration I did not want to 
travel in one of these cars. 

I crawled into a loaded freight car through an upper win- 
dow which I espied at one end of the car, and which liad not 
been secured. The window was grated and should have been 
locked, but I found it unlocked. The car was loaded to the 
ceiling, almost, with boxes, barrels and crates of nierchandise 
of various kinds leaving little room for me, but T lay flat most 
of the time upon some boxes that were piled high, and 
stretched my limbs in any way that I could when I grew tired. 
It was mighty lonely riding, for I could not see much of the 
scenery, though I could see a little. 

Through the interminable snow sheds the train rumbled 
and I thought we never would get through them, and kept a 
cursing them heartily. They are useful rather than ornamen- 
tal, so I put up with the inconvenience as best I could. Any- 
way I had no kick coming, for I was getting the best of the 
railroad by many a dollar, thought I. 

This S. P. R. R. permits 'boes to ride over the Sierra 
Nevada Mountains free, for these mountains are uninhabited 
and are wild and lonely. The 'boes know that they can ride 
free — at least many of them know it — and get over this part 
of the road without any trouble. 

For some reason or other my train made long stops in the 
snowsheds, which was inconvenient and tedious, but there are 
drawbacks in all lines of trade, so what is the use of com- 
plaining? Had I taken the Overland Limited and i)aid about 
$150 or so, I might have reached New York in about three 
shakes of a lamb's tail, but 1 was getting along fast enough 
for the price. I had no legitimate kick coming. 

It was a long, slow and tedious ride to Reno but 1 was 
gently deposited in that town at about ten o'clock one fine 
spring morning. 

Reno is a neat, progressive, pretty little city of about 
10,000 people. It is situated on the plains surrounded by bare 
and lonelv mountains and through it flows the Truckee River, 



98 

M inouiilaiii si ream uol miicli wider lliaii a lirook. II is a 
swill -llDwiiiM Htrraiii llial eoiiios from tlio Sit>rra Nevada 
Moiiiilaiiis niui flows on lor sovora! hiuulrod miles down 
lliroiij;li llie i)laliis or prairies, of tlie luij^c state of Nevada. 

Some of the residential str(H>ls in RtMio ari> m>al. well- 
shaded and i)relly. and contain soint> rni(> r(>sid(-nei's. In tlu> 
luisiness poiiion tliere ar(> (|Mil(> a nnmber of stores. At one 
liiiie Reno did a .L;real business, for it was the distribtitinf; 
poini for a eonsiderabh- section of coiinlr\ and had (and may 
still have) three lines of railroad: the SouMummi I'acille, 
Virginia i^- 'rrucUee, and llu< Nevaila, California it Oregon, 
but so many larfic towns have sprung up near Heno that the 
trade has b(>en divided, llazen has sprung up nearby and so 
has S'|)arks. (lobilield. Touopah, Kh.Nolite and others, which 
have beconu* imiHutant places and do not hav(> to diaw upon 
Ueno for Huppll(<s. Ileno still is a great catti(> shipping cen- 
ter, howevei', and contains (piite a number of manufacturii\g 
establishments and ore-treating i)lants. Its divorc(> industry, 
loo. Is (lulte extensive, but latleily the Kenoites have become 
real good, and hav(> changed their divorce laws somewhat, 
have abolished gambling and are running things in (piile a 
Sunday school fashion, ll usimI to be awt'ully wild and wo(dly. 

.\l one lime Ueno was wide open and as llu> law |)ut no 
restrictions on gambling. thi> gambling placi>s did a great 
biisin(>ss. The floors of tlu> gambling palaces wtM-e marble, 
the bars were cosily and tilled up with the fhu>st of glass- 
ware. Tlu^ best of wuu>s and ii(iuors could b(> had thert^ and 
th<> bmch co>inters were supplied with llu> best llie marKtM 
alTorded. The food was cooked by high i)riced chefs, but sold 
at rt>as(mable i)rices. Tlu> gambling layouts were in a largi> 
aparlnuMit t'ntered frinn the street, and consisted of roulette 
wheels, card tables and other iiaraphernalia. Husiness was 
dom> day and night. .\t night thi^se joints were so crowded 
that It was difllcull to move about in them or to get near the 
gaming tables. There were sonii- pri>tt> tough mugs tiiere 
and scraps wer(> I'rtMiuenl. but if an individual got too obstrt>p- 



• 99 

ei'ous, ho WHS quickly seized and run into jnil by liic llono 
oflicors, wlio woro alort and foarloss. 

It was interesting (<> wiileli Hie players. The lualii .t;a,nies 
l)layed wi're roulelle, stud-horse pokei-. craps, I'nro or keuo, 
all of wliieli, exei pt pokcf, weic pla.\(Mi witii a wheel. Craps 
was a huK(> I'avorile and was playcMl with dice, the individual 
player bein.t;' i)erniitted to throw the dice. 'IMie i)layevs were 
iui,t;htily absorbed in the turns of th(> wh(>el and would watch 
tJieui with tludr lu-ai'ts in their mouths. ColoriMl cliai)s (>si)(>c- 
iall.v were lively .i;;ind)lers, aiul with bla/.iut; eyes and excited 
iiisturcs, while pla\ iu.i;, they would make icmai'ks iil<e this, 
as the wheel whirled rapidly: "What nou doiu' dar.'" "Roll 
I'iKliI Tor nie (lis time": "Why don't nou roll i-i,i;lit for me, you 
blankety. blank, i)lanli" (cuss words). Tiny m ver lool\ed u|i 
at anyone while playing: lor they were too deeply ai)Soriied 
in the .uaiue. They ke])! up a rnnniuf; fire ot" comment. Olluu's 
tool< the mailer more cool.w ami won or lost in an inipiM'liir- 
able manner. 

I suppose these .^umbliu.i; iialaces are no louL'.ei' there, but 
I don't know whether they are or uol. Thinus chaIl.^(• sud- 
denly out West, somelinies. 

WIkmi 1 lauded in Ueno this line spring moruiu;; I was 
t rav( 1 stained and weary, so the lirsl place 1 nuule lor as soon 
as the ti'ain slopped, was tlu- hobo camp on Ihe outskirts of 
the (own, where Hilly and i had stoi)i)eil last I'all. whii(> on 
our way lo California. This canij) was on the banks ol' the 
Truckee under a waKoii bridj^e, and there was nolhiuK ihvvr 
to attract a lenderl'ool or a ivasserby's attention, except a h(>ap 
of stones thai were used as a lireplac(>. A lew empty cans 
wore strewn about, which posted the initiated ones. 

There wasn't a soul in c;imp when 1 arriv<'d (here I hat, 
morniiif;, except one lone, Wandering Willie, who ,ure(>t(Ml m(> 
as effusively as if I were* a long-lost brotluu-. Hoboes have a, 
faculty of distiuiAuishiuK brother kuif;bts at a .glance. 

"Well, u\:\\ 1 be damuedl; wluue did you dro|) from, 
pardner?" was the hearty grecdin.g I received. 



100 

"Who, me?" responded I; "Oh, I just drifted in from Cal- 
ifornia. I am after a clean-up." 

"You just blowed in from California, hay! How's things 
out that way? I'm headed for California.'" 

"The deuce you say! Oh, things are fine and dandy out 
there. Where you from?" 

"Me? Oh, I'm from Bloomington, Illinoi'. Was pretty 
chilly there last winter, so I fought I'd go somewhere where 
I kin keep warm. Been to Frisco?" 

"I left Frisco three days ago; it's a pretty swell town. 
You'll find it O. K., I think." 

Here we had an extended conversation which I need not 
repeat, for it would serve no useful purpose. This Illinois chap 
looked as if he had been having a hard time of it. He was a 
young man less than twenty-one years of age, but he had 
probably been on the pike a long time, for he looked seedy and 
hardened. His features were pinched and drawn, his frame 
bony, there was a hole in the crown of his derby hat, as if 
some one had thrown a brick through it. and the poor fellow's 
coat was in tatters; his shoes were in the last stages of wear, 
and his trousers were "high water" ones and patched in the 
seat. He surely was a woe-begone looking object, and needed 
a new outfit. 

He had just taken a bath and was now intent on going 
to town, so I did not hold him up long. After he left me I 
shed my clothes, and plunged into the' cold, clear water of the 
Truckee, and had a delightful swim, after which I had a good 
rub-down. Oh. how delicious it was and how it did make 
me glow! It took all the dirt and languor out of me and made 
me feel like a new man. It brightened my eyes, sharpened 
my aippetite and made me feel as full of ginger as a fighting 
cock. It wasn't long before I made tracks for Reno where I 
sat down to a substantial meal in a restaurant. A big bowl 
of soup, a pile of bread, plenty of meat, gravy and vegetables; 
half a pie, doughnuts, and a cup of coffee disappeared about 
as quick as I can tell it. 



101 

I remained in Reno a day or two, and put in a good deal 
of time at tlie corrals near the liobo camp, wliere cattle were 
loaded and unloaded, it was fun lo watch the cattle. A car, 
if it was to be loaded or imloadiMJ, was nm along side an 
inclined chute which led inlo a corral, down which the cattle 
were prodded when they were being unloaded, and prodded np 
when they were to be loaded. The prodding was done by men 
with long poles and some of the poles were spiked which made 
them more efficient. If a brute grew refractory, he or she 
suffered for it. Tail-twisting was resorted to in some cases 
and bad language was used besides the i)rodding, so that the 
performance was as good as a circus to witness, with no ad- 
mission price to pay. It interested me mightily, lor 1 like to 
see such things. 

I was put wise to the fact that a passenger train leaves 
Reno every evening at about eight o'clock, for the East, and 
that she is a good train to beat if one can make her. She is 
no slouch but gets a move on herself and goes a-humming 
when once she gets started. I thought I'd try her. According 
to advice and directions, I let her get a good move ou that eve, 
and jumped her as she was pulling out of the yard. It was 
getting dai'k at the time, but I swung on without mishap, for 
I knew how. No sooner had I swung on, though, than 1 found 
that the blind baggage was full of people. I wanted to swing 
off again but hesitated, and they say that a man who hesitates 
is lost, but that isn't always true. The people on the platform 
gazed in affright at me and I gazed in affright at them. They 
probably took me for a bull and I thought they were railroad 
men. 1 hung on and stared, but as no one said anything to me 
I drew a breath of relief and crowded np onto the platform. 
The other fellows then began to surmise that I was a dead- 
head like themselves. "Where you going, mister".'" a foreign 
voice asked me in a whisper. "New York," answered I. Noth- 
ing more was said to me, but my fellow dead-heads began to 
whisper among themselves. Maybe they had dropped some 
thing into brakey's palm and had been allowed to ride. Such 
things are done. There were just six of them and they were 



102 

(.ircasers, t>v(My oiu> of them, ami cow-inmcheis a( tliai. 1 
surmised. Tlu-y j-'avo mo black looks ami made nie feel that 
1 was innvolc-omo. The platform of a blind baggage is not very 
roomx and \vi^ wirr packed as ch)scly as sardines. 

"Ifs more bettor you jump oft", what?" hissed one follow 
in my ear: "it's too much crowded here: see?" 

This was a threat and got mo huffy. 

"What, jump off while the train is going sixtx miles an 
h(Hir," exclaimed I; 'what do you take mo for a crazy num? 
I'd get killed." 

No more was said to nu> just then, lint I was apprtdiensivo 
and tiai((i trouble. What could 1 do against six husky cow- 
punchers? 

The night was a fine star-lit one, the train rattled on at 
a tremendous pace and created a cyclone that swei)t through 
our wliiskeis and ever>- other part of our anatomy, it got 
to us in great shai)i> ami numbed us. 

The teeth of the (.reasers began lo chatter and they hml- 
died together for warmth, but little warmth did they get. 
The cold was distressing them horribly. These low caste 
Mexicans can stand heat to any temiierature, almost, but when 
it conus to cold, a little of it will nuike theni feel like hunt- 
ing their holes in a hun\. They couldn't run for their holes 
now though, and tlu\v had (o grin and bear the cold as best 
they ('(uild. 1 could not help grinning at the way their teeth 
chattered. They were chattering at about the same rate as 
the train, abmit sixty miles an hour. Whosh! wasn't the 
train a-going it, though! How she clattered through the 
ni.ght! (lee-whiz: how frightfully breezy it was! We put in 
about \\\o hours of this sort of misery, and 1 was planning 
what to do while shivering. Bye-and-bye our train began to 
slack ui) a little and then we knew that she was going to stop 
at sonu^ town for she blew her whistle, too. 

When the train began to slacken speed, a pair of hands 
suddenly grabbed me by the throat so that 1 could make no 
cnitcry, and another pair of hands pulled off my coat, which 
was hurled from the train. 



in;; 



"You see dat?" hissed ii voice; "xoii junip olT now or wo 
(row you off! Hurry! Pi-fi! Queck!" 

1 saboo'd all rif;ht and swunj; off as gracefully as 1 could 
l)ul 1 landed in a ditch. 1 wasn't hurt any. I arose and 
wa lived westward alonf; tlu> track in search of my coal which 
was an articl(> of wear I could not dispense with. 1 walked 
l)aci< fully a mile before 1 found the garment and then after 
shaking it I i)ut it on and walked eastward. How I cursed 
those Mexicans for tiling me off the train! 1( was a mean 
tricl\. 1 had not been hurting them nor molesting IIumu in 
any way, so why should they have used me in such a cruel, 
heartless manner? Had 1 broken my neck when they fired 
me off, they would not hav(< cared, the cold-l)lood(Ml wretches! 

llerc^ was 1 now, two or three miles from the railroad 
dei)ot, in a wild countr.w far from any pi-rson or habitation, 
with nothing around except the stillness and the darkness of 
the night. This was no joke. 1 felt kind of funny-like, for I 
could h(-ar coyotes barking not for away on the plains, and 
owls booting. It was an eerie situation. 

.\s I walked along lb<^ railroad tiack I could boar noises 
in the bushes at (mIIum' side of me, clos(> by, which startled me 
somewhat, but 1 concluded the noise was made by birds of 
some sort that were frightened because of my i)resence. The 
stars overhead shone gloriously and it was far pieasanter 
walking than riding, for the exercise of walking kept me 
wai'm. "L(M Ihe ({r(>asers I'ide and p(M'ish with th(> ('old," 
thinks I. 

It must have been nearly el(>ven o'clock when 1 reached 
a dei)ot which had the name Wordsworth on it. Wordsworth 
at one time had been a, railroad division ijoiiit, having a round- 
house, railroad shoi)s and other railroad nuinufacturing i)lants 
in it. It had (piife a population and was a i)retty lively little 
burg but \'ov some reason best known to I be i-ailroad com- 
pany, tlu\v transferred the division point to Sparks, a suburb 
of Reno, further west, so that to-day Wordsworth is a deserted 
village and looks mi.ghty dead. Therc^ is little or nothing 
there. 



101 

W'luMi 1 leaclud Wonlswoitli tli;U iu,t;li( ihcvv was mil a 
li^lit to hi' scon in the place, ami even the depot was black 
with t;l()oin. Win r(> to f;o or what to do, I did not know. 1 
ncner frit nioro loncsonu' in my life. I heard a pump throb- 
bin^' in the j;loom some distance off east of the depot, so 1 
cautiously walked up tlial way to reconnoitre. As 1 supposed, 
it was a railroad pump house, there for the puri)ose of puni])- 
ing water into the water tank for locomotives. 

A UKUi was in charge of the plant. 1 went up to the door- 
way of the i)umi)-house, peeped in, and found everything 
mighty snug and waiin tiiere. 1 asked the poor slave in charge 
if I might stei) insidi' and warm myself. He said yes. He 
was not av(Msi\ evidently, to having company, ev^n that of a 
'bo, for his vigil is a dreary and lonely one it seemed to me. 
He puts in his time attending to the fires and keeping the ma- 
chinery in operation. This is a. nice job, but it grows mighty 
lonesom<\ for there is no one to talk to night after night. I 
don't think I'd want the job at any price. 

The ])ump-man in answtM' to my inquiry informed me 
thai a freight train would l)e along somi> time during the 
night, but just wlien he could not say, for it was rarely on 
time. He told me to take a snooze and that he would wake 
me up. He was very kind and I did as he suggested. 

Several hours later I heard a rumbling in the distance, 
and l)ye and bye an engin(> whistled for the station. 1 be- 
canu> wide awal<e in an instant. It was an east-bound freight 
coming ahuig. When she st(iii)|)ed to water I walked along 
the train to seek out some likely spot for riding. The best 
thing 1 could see was a long box-car with low rods under- 
neath it, but plenty of them. "I guess it'll have to be the 
rods this time," thinks I to myself. 

'riu> rods underneath some freight cars are thin, but 
many, and are underneath the body of the car but a few 
inches apart, maldng an ideal berth. These rods extend from 
one side of a car to the other, are over five feet across and 
are convenient for riding purposes at night, when one is not 
apt to be spotted. .\ll one has to do is to swing under, stretch 



lOf) 

out nn(>'s hhmkols, use one's coat lor ii pillow and when om: 
side of tli(> boilv l)('i;iiis to ache, just lo turn over lo the other 
side. It boats a Pullman all hollow when you take into con- 
sideration the lad that a Ixnth in a Pullman costs from three 
dollars up, a nighl. Think of the )none.v you're savins, man. 
The rods did t^et a little hard after awhile, hut trifles liivo that 
(lid not wei,t;li with nu>. Sticivs and stonc'S (lew up oecasion- 
iiUy im|)(dl('d by the rapid motion of the train, but they only 
tickled me and made me grin. The old hooker soon was going 
some, and good luck (o her; may she keep ui) her lick! She 
took a siding at one phice further on and remained a long 
time, which was annoying, hut I had to be patient. 

What a (lod forsaken country the plains of N(>va(la ar(>! 
They are covered with Hig<>-bi\ish and alkali, and apparently 
there is no (MuI to them. They extend further than the eye 
can see, and furnish nu'laucholy vistas that only i)rairie-hens, 
coyotes, jack-rabbits, lizards, tarantulas, rattlesnakes, and 
other varmint appreciate. 

There is no accounting for tastes, of course, but Pd hate 
to b(> found dead in a country like this. Some folks don't 
think so. for they think this wilderness a garden-siwit, a para- 
dise, and are willing lo live and die there. When you get 
used to living in a, place yon will see beauties in it that you 
never discovcM'ed liefore and which will make yon hai)|)y and 
contented, no doubt. Some day all these; arid phiins of the 
wild west may 1)(> irrigated and tlien they will bloom like a 
rose garden. 

The snu was w(dl up in the heavens as we drew near, 
and finally stopped at Lovelocks, a right pretty little town 
opposite the raih'oad tracks. I made a bee-line foi- a restau- 
rant where 1 had a wash-up first and then a big cui) of red- 
hot coffee and sinkers; then some eggs sunny side up, fried 
spuds, life ])reservers, and then anotluu- big cu]) of coffee, 
to keep things floating easy-lik(>. That wasn't very much to 
eat for a young fellow who had been out in the oi)en all night, 
but it sufficed for the present, for 1 wanted lo take a nap 
somewhere to make up for a whole lot of lost sleep. I noticed 



I oc 



!i. liiiuluM- pill' (111 (he (iiilskirls of town and wimiI lhrii\ and 
laid olT oil top of 11 i)iU> of lint bimrds. usiiiK niy hlanlu'ts lor 
II pillow. I sl(>pl until afttMnoon, j;ottlnK np luuch rol'irslunl. 

As I HtrolltMl llirouKli Hu* sung little town I nolic(>d iiuitf 
a lew Indians in it, sipiaws and hacks, and obscrvi'd lliat 
sonic of tlu> stiuaws did domestic work in sonic of liic wliiti> 
pcopl(>'s houses, while their lords and nuislers, thi> uoldc red 
man, sat around on the oulslvirts of town, smoked tli(> pipe of 
pt>ace and f;amhled. Tlu'.v were a tlirt,\- lons.v, lUthy crowd, 
jin.vthln,u hut th«> noble spocinu>n of humanity yim see shown 
up so vividly 1)11 movliifi picturt> show screens, and I don't 
think tlie\ ever wash, clian,nt> tludr clothes or socks, or comb 
tlu>ir hair. They don't in ed llii> s\iiii)atliy of the f;i'iitle au- 
thoress of "Kamona" or of aiivone else, for they aii^ perfectly 
,hnpp,\ and (luileiit in their tillli and free-and-easy wa\ i>f 
living. "lOverybody works imt fatliiM," a|)i)lies lieic, for the 
Indian father lets mother and the kills do the woriv whilst 
he loafs and t>n,joys himself, .Vnd more power to him I It's 
U!|) to the snuaw to kick, but she dare not for she'd get 
Ihrushcd to within an inch of her life if she even liiiited that 
she was dissatislU>d. The Ked Man has her well Irained. .\s 
for the ivids, tiiex have to be iiiightv resprclful to tlieir dads 
and are ready to jumi) at a look. 'The Ued Man is not worry- 
ing over anything. It Is only the silly and llery young bucks 
who feel impt>lled to go on llu> war-path in sitringtime to gain 
a little glory in the e.\ I's of tlu>ir ladylove. 

W'inuemucca was the next stop. It is a town of about 2.- 
MO inhabitants, situated 10 or .".0 miles east of Lovelock ("lose 
to some bare and loiiel> mountains, on the tloor of the prairii'. 
'rhtue is pleiitN of sage-brush ami dust thereabout, but no 
trees, and the landscapes seem desolat»\ 

Winnemucca is (ho county seat of some count.x. and it 
is nuitt> a thriving littU> business ctMiter. It contains a restan- 
raiit or two, si>\'eral saloons, a hotel or two, a few rooming- 
houses, a bank, and quite a number of stores and ihvellings. The 
Inhabitants call their town "W'iniiamuck," for so the old In- 
dian chief was called aftiM' whom the place was named. 1 



10'; 



still luiNC -A (Iriiikiiii; -^;l;lss llial I ohiaincd (Iicih no inalltM' 
luiw I oblaiiicd il. 1 took a walk tliroii^;!! Ilic town lo sizf 
il u|) and to (r,\ and I'md a |)lac«> wh(M<' 1 could tako a hatli, 
I'oi' 1 iK'(Ml(>(i one. I had Ixm n lold thai llicic was -i (^rcck at 
llic (MJKc of town, near the roolliills, and I I'ound this to li(> 
the case, hul tli(> water was so niuddv and iilthv llial had 1 
plniiKi'd into it I would have ciiUir^icd unclcant'i- than 1 went 
in. NchmUoss to say I didn't, ko in. 

What swslaiiu'd th(> ii)h\c(<, I woiidcri'd? Mining nnd cutlU! 
raising, I was told, and there was consideiahle of hoth done, 
thonjAh \vhei'(> it was <l(Uie was not visible to tlw nai\ed (\ve. 
The place was I'ouKh and at one time liad hec n wild and 
wooIIn, thai is, soon al'ler the oveiland railioad had been 
buill but that is (luite a. long tinii' a^c). Like all the border 
(owns. Winnenuicca was fnll of Kiiniblers, I'aHl wouirn, hurd\- 
Knrd\ housrs. drinUiuf; places, dives, giunblinK i)la(!es, etc., 
and like Ihe rest, il usually had a. man nr two for breakfast. 
Now, Ihe place is Sunday-school like in comparison. ()nl.\ a 
lew weeks before my anaval some bandits had broken inio 
Ihe bank and had looled il of a. Iar,i;e sum of money, bul since 
then a ti'ellis work of substantial iron has been con.sl ru< led 
from the top of lh<- countcM' cleai' to the ceiling;, with holes 
jnsf large enouinh al the base for people to pul their hands 
Ihrougli when depositing' or taking out mone\ , so Ihal Ihe 
next set of bandils who call to make a raise will hiive lo crawl 
through mighty small holes lo do il. II did uol lake me long 
lo "do" WiiUK inucca nor to i-esolv<> lo gel out of il. foi' it 
looked lonesome-like to me, bul I had to w;iil for a I rain- - 
Hiiiie had gon(>, long ago. 

In due lime, Ihal is lo say, thai evening, 1 got a train onl 
of Ihere, but Ihis lime I had lo rid(> t.lH> bumpers. I saw no 
oilier way. The bumpers ar(> the tilings Ihal fasten Ihe cars 
together so Ihal all the cars form a I rain. The\ Just afford a 
foothold and Ihal is all. Take a look at any railroad cai- ami 
judge for yoursidf. They do not, make very easy riding for 
it is "standiiig-up" all the time with a i)reoa.rioiis hold. l'\'w 
care to ride that wa\' long at a. siretcli, bul I held on f(U- inan\ 



108 

miles, until I felt I could not hold on much longer; then I 
jumped off at the next stopping place. 

The stations along my route in Nevada were lew and far 
between and they were not towns or villages, or hamlets even, 
but merely railroad stations — a water-tank, pump-house and 
section boss's dwellings — that was all. Around them was 
sagebrush covered prairie, and that is all. 

The towns are a hundred miles or so apart and do not 
amount to much. They consist of a few dwellings and a few 
stores and that is all. A general store or two, restaurant, 
postoffice, bakery, barber shop, blacksmith shop, several 
saloons and an hotel, is their general make-up. It must be a 
lonely life these people lead, so far from the crowded ha^ints 
of men, but they seem to be satisfied and contented. I wonder 
would the most wretched, poverty-stricken people in the cities 
change places with them if they could? 

The next town I stopped at was Elko. It contains a hotel, 
a store or two, a barber shop, blacksmith shop, a few saloons, 
but that is about all. It is an oasis in the desert. I was glad 
to remain there a day to rest up, to get a good sleep, a good 
feed and a bath. If you want to know all about a place and 
its inhabitants go into a saloon, for what the frequenters 
there can't tell you about it isn't worth knowing. I heard that 
there were some wonderful mineral springs up in the hills 
about a milfe from town and a swimming pond as well. As I 
wanted a thorough clean-up I concluded to go out that way. 

I followed the wagon road out of town a little way, 
through dust an.d sage-brush, and then followed the road up- 
ward through the hills. It was a hard old road to climb for 
it was deep with dust and rutty, and lost itself after it had 
gone up a way. If it didn't, then 1 lost it. The hills were all 
covered with sage-brush and one hill looked just like another. 
Where on earth are the pond and springs? I couldn't see any. 
I began to dispair and feel like giving up, but after climbing 
one more hill to its summit, there right below me lay a little 
basin, or hollow, in which there was a pond of water about 
150 feet in diameter. The basin was circular in form and 



109 

from the appearance of things, I judged that it must have 
been the mouth of a volcano, for around the rim of the basin 
there issued little jets of sulphur water intermittently. They 
were boiling hot, and the pond itself was the crater hole, but 
it was now filled up with water. It had been tried at various 
times to sound the depth of the crater, but after thousands 
of feet of line had been let down and no bottom found, the 
job had been given up in despair. 

I walked all around the pond sampling the sulphur water 
here and there and finding it good to drink. For a few 
minutes the soil on these little sulphur springs would rest 
quiet and no one would suspect that there was anything lively 
underneath the soil, but like a flash there would be a sizzling 
and a bubbling, and then boiling jets of sulphur would spurt 
up a little way. "I guess I am pretty close to hell,'' thinks I. 

The water in the volcano basin is not hot but just hike 
warm and is just the right temperature for swimming pur- 
poses. This seems to be a favorite bathing place of the 
Indians, for bucks, squaws and papooses bathe in it. The 
timid ones go to one part of the basin where the water is not 
deep, but some of the daring bucks swim right in the crater- 
hole where bottom has never been found, and noisily glory 
in their temerity. More than one daring buck has paid forfeit 
with his life and his body was never recovered, .lust a week 
before I came there a young buck who was too frolicsome 
lost his life that way and his body was not recovered. 

As I needed a bath I shed every stitch of clothing — there 
was not a soul within miles of me apparently — and plunged 
in. The water was just right, neither too hot nor too cold. 
I floundered and flopped around, gave myself a good rub and 
enjoyed the bath hugely. I spent an hour or two at the extinct 
volcano thinking, speculating and wondering at the ways and 
methods of the Creator. How many millions of years is it 
since these hills were formed, and since they were separated 
by fire and brimstone? And the fires are still burning, to 
judge from the red-hot sulphur water bubbling up. Such 
problems are too deep for me. I gave them up. Slowly and 



110 

thoughtfully I wandered back to Elko and continued my 
journey eastward. 

It would be tedious to mention all my stoppages along the 
route and describe them all, so I will merely say that after 
about a week's pretty constant traveling I traversed the broad 
state of Nevada and came to the western end of Utah. 

In Utah I came to the Great Salt Lake, said to be the 
largest inland salt water sea in the world. The waters of 
this lake are so salty that they will float almost anything, 
and it is said that if you swim in it and get your head down 
in the water and your heels up, you can never right yourself; 
whether this is true or not, I don't know. I didn't try it. 

The railroad trains used to go around the lake, but now 
they save about forty miles by going right through the lake 
on a trestle, which is thirty miles in length, and saves a 
good deal of time. This is called the Lucin Cut-off. I crossed 
the trestle on the brake-beams of a freight car and mighty 
slow and tedious riding it was. I looked down into the won- 
derfully deep blue water of the lake through the heavy ties 
until I grew dizzy and nearly fell off of my narrow perch, 
but I held on to the slender brake-rod in front of me like 
grim death. Had I swooned or let go, this veracious chronicle 
would never have been written. 

I have had several close calls during my road work, but 
a miss is as good as a mile. A fellow takes more or less of 
a chance every time he beats a train, and if anything hap- 
pens to him -he must not kick, for it is part of the game. One 
or two moments unconsciousness, from dizziness on the brake- 
beam while crossing Salt Lake would have done for me, for 
had I fallen off T would have been cut into mince-meat by the 
cars. But this is getting a little too imaginative, let's stick 
to facts. Nothing happened, and here I am, right side up 
with care, still in the ring and ready for more trouble. 

I remained in Ogden, the end of the first long lap of my 
route, several days, for my money had all been spent by this 
time, and I had made up my mind to go to work to earn 
some more. This a genuine hobo never would have done. 



Ill 

He would have prowled around town looking for hand-outs 
or anything else that came his way. Along the main residence 
streets in Ogden I came upon the ample grounds of a resi- 
dence in which I saw a pile of uncut logs. I boldly entered 
the grounds, walked up to the mansion and rang the door- 
bell. The lady of the house came to the door and asked me 
what I wanted. I begged her "for the privilege to toil — to 
cut her wood." She agreed to let me do so, and said that she 
would like to have it cut in stove lengths and offered me a 
dollar a day, room and board for my work. 1 jumped at the 
offer and put in a good week's work, working fairly and 
steadily. I roomed in an out-house, had good board and had 
no kick coming. The lady was about thirty-five years of age 
and she had a charming figure and a thin, intellectual face. 
She had laughing eyes and sensuous lips and was the plural 
wife of some rich and lustful Mormon, Init I never set eyes 
on the husband. I was told by outsiders that the lady was a 
Mormon. Seems to me that had I been her husband 1 would 
have turned up occasionally, for the lady was mighty engag- 
ing. Maybe he had others, though, who were equally charm- 
ing. Say, girlie! how would you like to have a man love you 
and then divide his love up among several other girls? 
Could you stand that? 1 put in a week at Ogden this time, as 
I said before, and had a good long surcease from travel, but 
after that time the desire to get on began to come over me 
again, so I resumed my journey. 

I had now traveled about one-eighth the distance of my 
trip, and I found that the expanses out west are mighty com- 
prehensive. Indeed, they seem endless, for as soon as one 
long vista terminated another one opened. The scenery 
through which my trains now rolled was more interesting 
than that through Nevada, for here were mountains, canyons 
and water-courses, precipices, gorges, etc., that developed 
diversified panoramas to my gaze at nearly every turn of 
the wheels. We were going through Weber Canyon now, 
near Ogden, a narrow mountain pass. The scenery was wild 
and enchanting. The canyon seemed to me to be forty or 



112 

fifty miles long, but it took us a long time to traverse it, the 
train twisting in and around curves like a snake. Quite a 
contrast and a relief such scenes afforded from bare, monot- 
onous prairies. They kept me gazing. 

Soon we came to a towering mountain, hundreds of feet 
in height, almost straight up and down, down which ran a 
curious formation of rock, which some chump named "The 
Devil's Slide." I call the fellow who named it so, a chump 
because he must have had a queer notion of his satanic 
majesty's personality. Let me explain. 

The slide consists of two walls of rocks about twenty 
feet apart, forty feet high and about 1000 feet long, which 
begins away up on top of the mountain and runs down almost 
to the railroad track. The walls are about as even on top as 
the teeth of a buck-saw, and as they are about twenty feet 
apart, what kind of a form must the devil have to ride down 
it? How can anyone think that he is twenty feet wide in 
the beam or that he can come sliding down ragged edges 
like that? Stranger, if ever you see The Devil's Slide, try 
to suggest a better name for it! That could easily be done. 

The train traverses only a small portion of Utah and then 
it rushes into Wyoming, a state much wider than Nevada 
even, which is a very wide state. I had all kinds of adven- 
tures in Wyoming, but only one or two of them are worthy 
of mention. 

When I got as far as Rock Springs my money began to 
give out, and I was beginning to think it time to earn some 
more, for I preferred to buy my grub rather than to beg it. 
Anyway, you cannot always get a hand-out when you want it, 
but if you have money you can buy a square meal or pro- 
visions anywhere. To earn money necessitated tlelays, of 
course, but begging is a disreputable business, and I never 
took to it kindly even when necessity compelled me. 

I got to Rock Springs early one morning and noticed a 
big bunch of cattle in a corral from which they were about 
to be driven by a number of bull-whackers. I watched opera- 
tions a little while and then made up my mind to strike the 



113 

boss of the outfit tor a job. He was a tall, lean, iiungry- 
looking chap who was all sinew and bone, and I could tell 
from his manner that he was the boss. I strolled up to him, 
told him that I was broke and braced him for a job. He 
eyed me critically, sized me up, and then asked, "kin you 
ride?" 

"Ride anything- with hair on," responded I. 

"Hm?" ejaculated he, doubtful, for that is almost every 
cowboy's boast. "Where did you do your riding?" 

"Me? I herded cattle in California." The boss distrusted 
me and thought I was lying, in which he was not far wrong, 
for I had never herded cattle, though I had done considerable 
riding and was a pretty fair buck-aroo. He gave me the 
benefit of the doubt, however, and engaged me then and there 
for twenty dollars per month with room and chuck thrown 
in, my bedroom to be all Wyoming, which was a broad one. 
The chuck consited of bacon and beans, flapjacks, sow-belly 
and hot biscuits. A cook and chuck wagon followed the outfit; 
also a tent, which a fellow could sleep in or not, as he chose. 
There were hundreds of cattle in the bunch, dried-up cows, 
steers and three-year-olds, all of which were to be driven to 
the owner's ranch in the interior. I asked no questions where 
they were to be driven, for I didn't care; all I cared about was 
to earn a few dollars in an honest way, although I had no 
right to lie to gain my purposes. 

The cattle were ornery brutes, i-ange cattle, and they all 
looked as if they hadn't had anything to eat for a coon's age, 
for nearly all of them were skinny. There were three other 
bull-whackers in the outfit besides the boss and myself, mak- 
ing five in all. It was to be our task to drive the cattle and 
to herd them. 

The job was not a difficult one, for the cattle were docile 
enough, and as there was no branding to be done at that 
time, neither was there to be any roping (lassoing), for had 
there been any of the latter I wouldn't have been in the game 
at all. I never roped a steer in my life and didn't know any 



114 

more about it than a babe. In that respect I was a tender- 
foot, or greenhorn. 

We got to the range in two days' time, and tlien it was 
just plain herding. We cowboys had a tent for our use and 
our duties were to keep riding around the cattle all day so 
they would not stray away. At night, only one man was left 
on guard, to keep an eye on animals and on the pattle. Every 
cowboy wears a belt with pistol in it, ammunition, an overcoat, 
etc., but as I owned no pistol one of my mates loaned me his. 
The boys were a good-hearted, rollicking, devil-may-care set 
of fellows who feared nothing. Although they knew at once 
that I was not a professional bull-whacker, yet, as I was a 
fairly good rider they had some respect for me. I told them 
frankly that I was there only to earn a piece of money. As 
a usual thing cattle do not feed at night on the range except 
when the moon is up and affords plenty of light, but on dark 
nights they squat and contentedly chew the cud. 

The first moonlit night I was put on watch there was 
trouble. Some of the cattle had strayed away and I could not 
get them in. When I went after one brute that had strayed 
and got him back into the bunch, others were straying and 
though I did some pretty lively riding, and considerable yell- 
ing, I could not succeed in keeping the brutes together. I 
saw that the task was beyond me and that I would need help. 
I went to the tent and called up the boys who arose out of 
their warm blankets grumbling and growling to beat the band. 
They knew at once what the trouble was. They saddled 
up and away they went after the cattle. I followed one of the 
boys. This chap made after an obstreperous brute which was 
feeding all by his lonely away off from the rest of the herd. 
As soon as he saw us coming he gave a snort of defiance, 
elevatod his tail, lowered his head and made off. That got 
the cowboy furious. He uncoiled his lariat, rushed his pony 
up close to the steer and let fly. The coil settled around 
the steer's horns and the pony — which understood its busi- 
ness — braced ita forelegs for the coming shock. It came in 
an instant after the steer had reached the end of the tether 



115 

and up ho Hew into the air, turning a complete somersault 
as he flew. He landed on his back with a jar that shook the 
earth and then he lay still for a few moments. Slowly he 
turned himself up to a sitting posture, arose to his feet, and 
shook his head in a dazed sort of way, wondering who or 
what had struck him. 

"You will run away, you ugly son of a , you! Gol 

darn your ugly hide, anyway. Try it again, will you?" "I'll 
teach you manners. Now you get along there and no more 
fooling." Here followed some more pretty tall cussing. The 
steer was trembling in every limb for the shock had been 
sudden and great — then he meekly ran to the herd, all the 
defiance and fire taken out of him. 

The other cowboys were having a long and exhausting 
ride of it, for the cattle had wandered off to all points of Ihe 
compass. It was extremely difficult to get them all in. 1 
don't know whether they were recovered. This arduous work 
was done when they should have been snugly in bed and they 
did not like it. 

After breakfast the next morning the boss and 1 had a 
heart-to-heart talk. I was saddling ui), getting ready to go 
on the range when he came toward me. I could see that he 
was mad clear through. 

"Say, mister; you call yourself a cowboy, you do? You 
don't know any more about herding cattle than a kid, and 
I'd advise you to get off the ranch as soon as you kin; you 
hear me? What do you mean by coming here and telling me 
you know anything about herding cattle? You're a gol darn 
lying, thieving Mexican Greaser, and I have a mind to wipe up 

the earth with you. You -, etc., , etc., , etc." 

He was mad all right. As I had been in the wrong I said 
nothing in reply to all of this. The three cowboys regarded 
us from a little distance with interest, for they scented a 
scrap. 

The boss continued to abuse me, for he was wound up for 
fair. "You dirty, lying, Mexican Greaser, some of my cattle 
has strayed away and I'll never find 'em again. Do vou know 



IIG 

what I've a mind to do with you? I've a mind to put > ou out 
of business." 

He was arme'd and I was not, but his threat got me huffy, 
so for the first time I made answer: "You're a bluffing son of 

a , you couldn't shoot nothing. Pay me off and I'll get 

out of here!" 

"Pay you off,'' yelled he, frothing at the mouth and peel- 
ing off his coat and flinging it down on the ground with con- 
tempt. I'll pay you off right now.'' 

I deliberately pulled off my coat with a sneer of contempt. 
I felt ready for anything. The cowboys gathered around us 
to take in the circus. They were in their glory, in the seventh 
heaven of delight, for they dearly like to see a scrap; any- 
thing to vary the monotony of a humdrum existence, think they. 
It would give them something to talk about, too. 

"Oh, you want to be paid off , you do?'' sarcastically yelled 
the boss as he danced about looking for an opening. I had 
never taken boxing lessons, but I was as strong as a young 
bull and as quick as lightning. I am strongly built and hard 
to down. 

"Here's one that'll help to pay you off," shouted the boss 
as he made a swing at me that would have put me out of 
business then and there had it landed, for it was an ox-felling 
blow, but I ducked it. 

"Try again," said I, smiling. My coolness and effrontery 
got him madder still, so he tried to close in. He hit me a 
swinging blow in the eye which staggered me and made me 
see stars for a second or two', but it was the only effective 
blow he struck. I rained pile-drivers so fast all over his face, 
that he couldn't get in another blow, and one blow that struck 
him on the jaw was like the kick of a mule. It keeled him 
over on his back and he lay still. He was my meat; of that I 
now felt sure. He got up again, but was groggy on his pins, 
and he came for me, but down he went before another pile- 
driver. He knew himself, now, that I was his master, so he 
concluded to quit, muttering something. The cowboys stood 
around, saying not a word, but taking in everything. They 



117 

wouUl not have interl'erod for tlu- world, for tlK\\- love fair 
play; but, had there been foul i)la.v. they would have taken a 
hand at once. Was the boss going for his gun? I followed 
him and told him to pay me off at once, or I would beat him 
to death. He paid me off without a word. 

I bade the cowboys goodbye and lit out. 

The cowboy business is now getting to be a thing of the 
past. In nearly all tlie western states the ranges are being 
divided into small holdings and settle'd upon. 

The cow punching business is a pretty hard life, and some 
one who knows more about it than- 1 do, speaks of it thus. 

"In the beginning of the year 1899 I was earning my living 
by the esthetic pursuit of punching cows on the L Bar Ranch, 
not far from Santa Rosa, New Mexico. The onward march of 
civilization is gradually but surely eliminating the picturesque 
cowbo\- from the scenery of (he west, but at Ihe time I speak 
of, he was in the heydey of his glory, such as it was. As a 
matter of fact, the fiction writers have always thrown an 
undeserved halo around the life of a cow puncher, being 'long' 
on the romantic side of the same, but 'short' on the many 
disagreeable features attending it. 

"Speaking from experience, 1 can say that the life of a 
cowboy was not to be envied by any man who valued his 
personal comfort and peace of mind. He was obliged to be 
in the saddle, riding from sunrise to sunset, and often stand- 
ing guard two hours of the night, besides. He had to eat 
beef fried in lard and cooked until it resembled a dried leaf. 
He was supplied with the yellowest imaginable doughy bis- 
cuits, and the water he drank was so often bitterly alkaline 
as to be nauseating. During the day he suffered from the 
heat and lack of food and drink; during the night, from the 
cold and wet. The little time he had for sleep he often spent 
in a pool of water, for his bed was made in the open air with 
the sky for a roof. He was exposed to constant danger of life 
and liml), associating with rough men; he heard wild talk and 
saw wild deeds. The very experience he led obliged him to 
be indifferent to danger, and i-emoved as he was from many 



118 

of the restraints ol' law and society, he was very apt to go to 
extremes. The riders were frequently men who were unable 
to live in law-abidins' communities, and sought the frontiers 
to escape the bonds of civilization. Having had three years 
of this wild and woolly existence, I was heartily sick of it and 
when, some twelve months later I dropped into a snug berth 
as United States deputy marshal in Arizona, there was never 
a man who was better fitted to appreciate the boon that for- 
tune sent him." 

The second experience I hud in Wyoming that I wish to 
mention, happened on the outskirts of Rawlins, in i\ hobo camp. 
I happened to come upon this camp while walking eastward. 
I could not always beat my way on trains for lack of oppor- 
tunity; and sometimes because I was put off at a siding or 
water tank when the train crew got onto ine, but I never 
hiked unless 1 had to. It is no joke hiking through an unfam- 
iliar wilderness where there are few towns, people or houses. 

I struck this hobo camp one afternoon after a long walk 
and was glad of an opportunity to rest and to have a chat with 
some one. There were half a dozen 'boes in this camp when 
I struck it, who were seated on railroad ties, but no fire had 
been lighted as yet, for the weather was warm and sunny, and 
it was too early for the evening meal to be prepared. There 
was one chap in the camp whom I wish to describe. 

This chap was a little redheaded Hebrew, about five feel, 
two inches in height, who had a sandy moustache, blue eyes, 
curly hair, an effeminate manner and the ways of a dude. 
Why he was on the road I did not learn. He was out of his 
element among 'boes, for he ought to have been at home 
putting on style. His name was Gus and he looked like a Gus- 
sie. The boys called him Gussie in fun. 

The little chap had a lisp, but he was a good 'alker and 
when he became animated, had a habit of running around in 
a circle. I believed the fellow was a bit off mentally— had 
wheels in fact. 

Somehow or other he took to me —freaks usually do — 
and became confidential. He showed me a lot of pasteboard 



119 

signs lliat lie had with him which were (Uuie ii)) in :in oilcloth 
parcel, and he told nie that h(> was peddling these signs along 
the road to help defray expenses. He had no tro'ihle at all 
in selling them, he assnred nie, for ihey cost only (wenty-five 
cents each, and almost every storekeeper bought one or more. 
The signs were about 8x10 inches in size, were neatly printed 
in colors, and in various kinds of display type. No two signs 
were alike. The signs weie for business pui'poses and con- 
tained such mottoes as, "in God We Trust; All Others Must 
Pay Cash"; "Poor Trust (underneath these two words there 
was the picture of a dog, poor Trust) is dead; bad debts 
killed him"; "Pay today and Trust tomorrow"; "Our trust- 
ing department is on the roof, take the elevator"; "Every 
time you take a drink, things look different"; "If you can't 
pay, don't play"; "('ome in and look out"; "No trouble to 
show goods"; "Razors |)ut in order good as new"; "We 
study to please"; "We lead, others follow"; "Good goods, 
low prices"; "If you don't see what you want, ask for it"; 
"New and second hand goods," etc., etc. 

He had dozens of these signs and very few were (hii)li- 
cates. Gussie took to me for sonic reason oi' oilier (maybe 
because I looked green and unsoi)histieated ) and told me that 
he could put me on to a good thing if 1 were willing. He would 
sell me as many of these signs as I cared to buy at ten cents 
each, and if I would buy fifty of them he would give me the 
name and address of the wholesalei', so that 1 could buy more 
of them if T wanted to, at wholesale prices. He solemnly 
assured me on his word of honor that he had no trouble at 
all in selling the signs for twenty-five cents each, and that 
they went like hot cakes: to see 'em was to buy 'em. His talk 
sounded good to me and iin|)resse(l me but I told him that I 
could not l)uy fifty signs from him, for the reason that 1 had 
only two dollars in my possession. 

"I'll l)uy two dollars worth from you," said 1, "if you'll 
throw in the name of the wholesaler. That's the best I can 
do. " Gussie opened his heart, ran around in a circle once or 
twice, and then said; "All right, I see you are a ])retty good 



120 

fellar; I'll sell you twenty of de signs for two dollars. Don't 
tell de Oder fellers, dough ! " 

I promised to keep nnim, so he took me off somewhere, 
let me take my pick and choice of the signs (which I thought 
was kind of him) and 1 gave him all the money I had, without 
a qualm, for I divined that the signs would be good sellers. 
And they were. I had no trouble at all in selling them, the 
only difficulty being in the price. Some people thought twen- 
ty-five cents was too much to pay for a mere pasteboard sign, 
unframed, but others handed out the coin without a murmur. 
Some people let go easily, anyway; and others hard. 

Gussie had played sharp with me, though. After I had 
sold nearly all of my signs, I wrote to the wholesale dealer, 
who informed me that he would sell me all the signs I wanted 
of that kind, in dozen lots, at five cents each, freight prepaid. 
Thus, the darn little redheaded Hebrew had skinned me after 
all. 

The signs sold easily, that is if one had any ability as a 
salesman at all, and the tact to talk to people In a business- 
like way. I had not much tact at first but 1 soon acquired it, 
and liked the occupation of selling goods very much. When 
I went into a store to sell, people treated me with civility, and 
not as if I were a bum. although I looked seedy enough, good- 
ness knows! They were kind enough to talk to me and did 
not frown upon me nor show contempt. They regarded me 
as a merchant and 1 began to feel that I was. 

Thank the Lord, now I would not have to do any more 
hard manual labor. Xo more wood chopping, no dock w'ol- 
loping in the cities, no working in the harvest fields in the 
country, no street laboring work, no back breaking work in 
brickyards, etc., etc. No. all hard grafting was a thing of the 
past. How easy it is to be a salesman when you have some- 
thing good to sell! Buying and selling is easy when you learn 
how. I had been put onto a good thing and I stayed with it. I 
had the gumption to know a good thing wiien 1 saw it. 

Gussie, you did me a good turn even though you did sting 



UM 

nie a little! If I should iiicci thee, after loiif^ yetus. how shall 
I srtet thee? With a l<ick in the pants, hut only iji fun. 

1 sot on quickl\ and famously now. I did nol have lo lay 
off here and there a few days to earn money enougii to pay 
expenses, hut could pay as I went along and lost no time. 
How comfortinj; and ])leasant that was! No hoes would rob 
nie of the signs for what good were the signs lo them? They 
would have heen unabl(> to sell (Ikmu. Thus, the signs were 
better than money in my i)urse, for the i)rofits on the sale of 
one or two of them would procure me the price of a day's 
victuals. 1 was care-free now, hai)py as a lark and asked 
favors of no one. Why did I not get on lo such a fine scheme 
before? I did not know enough, that's all. 

The signs that went the best, wore, "Our trusting dei)art- 
ment is on the roof, take the elevator," and "Every time you 
take a drink things look different." These two signs invariably 
created a laugh, and the latter one was interpreted by dif- 
ferent people in different ways. Some people — women— took 
a bad meaning out of it and laughed to split their sides, but 
I couldn't see anything funny about it. However, if you want 
to do business with peoi)le put them in good humor, and make 
them laugh; then you are almost sure to sell them some- 
thing. That was my experience. I let people laugh and be 
happy and laughed with them. No one ever fired me out of 
their place for being too fresh, although I laughed too loud 
sometimes and talked too much. I did like to get in among 
the people, though, to see them, to talk to them and to study 
their ways. It was an education to me and a profitable one, 
too. 

I got along over the road very fast now. llefore many 
days had elapsed I had traversed the whole of Wyoming and 
then I got to Nebraska. I stopped between trains in such 
towns, as Sydney, .lulesburg. North Platte, Kearney, Grand 
Island, Fremont, etc., and from the latter place 1 performed 
a daring feat one night. 

Fremont is on the eastern border of Nebraska, not very 
far from the state line, which is formed by the Big Muddy — 



122 

the Missouri Rivrr. On its Ijordcr lies Omaha, aucl oi)i)Oslte 
Is Council lUuffs, lh(> end of llic Union Paciflr railroad 
division. I was anxious to get to Council Bluffs tliat ni,s;ht, 
nor did 1 care how 1 got there so tliat 1 did gel tliere. 

I waited until ;ifter darU in KreniuiU and then Jumped a 
passenger train as she drew out from the station. 1 swun.g 
on to the i)latform of the l;isl eoneli. and llien (dinilxMl on 
top of it where 1 lay down and was whisked along at a lively 
rat(\ A keen night -wind soon began to blow, and finally blew 
so strong that 1 positively could not stand it. It went through 
nie like a knife and searched my very vitals. 1 became numb 
and was in danger of rolling off. so I concluded to climb down. 
This was no easy task. Finallv I Mccomplished it ;iiid went 
inside the car wher(> I sat down in a vacant seal u(>ar tlie 
door. 

Hye-and-l».\ e wIumi th(> condu<Mor came llirougli the train 
for tickets 1 concluded it was about lime for me to hit tlie roof 
again. 1 leisurely walked oul of the door and climbed on top 
of the car again, and after the eondtielor had made his rounds, 
down I came and again seated myself in the coach. One or two 
of the passengers suspected me and on(> of llieni. a .\ oung woman 
with a baby in her arms, informed tlie conductor .ibout me. 
He came out on to the platform, si)ied me on tht> roof and 
told me sternly to come off the p(Mch. 1 obeyed promptly. 
He told me to [)recede him through tlu^ train, to the baggage 
car. I obeyed orders (had to in fad) lor the conductor was 
right behind me. When 1 gol into tlu> bagga.ge car the con- 
ductor told the cr«>w what 1 liad been doing and asiunl tluMU 
what had best be done with me? 

"Fire him off!" exclaimed a bag.gageman. 

"Knock his block off!" cried a husky-looking brakeman. 

"Heat him to a frazzle," sugg(^st(Ml another baggageman. 

1 shiveriMl with aiipn>luMision. I lia<l run up against a 
cruel crowd. 1 tboiight my time had come. 

"What have you got in that bundle. ttu>re?" asked the 
conductor, pointing to the newapai)er in which my signs were 
wrapped up, and which I carried under my arm. 



"Signs, sir, wliicli I :iiii HclliiiL; to liclp |»Hy my Wiiy." 

Tile c'oiKiuclor iuid crew cxiiiiiiiu'd tlic sIkhk. 'I'Ikmi llioy 
('on.sul((Ml, iiiui fiiiiilly Hit' coiuliictoi' said: 'Tin gciiiK to let 
yon off easy, this tiiiu-. Wlicii tlic wliisllc hlows for liM> next 
stop, you .juiii|) off ill a Ininy. If I catcli son <iii lud'e after 
ilial, it'll .l;o piclly liard willi vow." 

"Ail riKlit," answered I limidly. 

ArcordiiiKly, when the I rain slacki'd up I juiiiprd olT on 
an ash-heap and lil riglil side up willi care. 'lliiH happened 
on the vvcHl side of tlie IVlissouri River no! far frtun Omaha,, 
so I walked info Omaha and ^o{ there about inidniKhl. It 
was a eold hike. 

VVlien 1 got into Oinalia I hout;!)! a hoi diiiiU in Hie first 
saloon I eanie to ami then liil tiie ha.\ lor liie iiinhl. 

Iowa Is another wide stale, a littk? wider ( vc-n than 
Nebraska, and it took me nearly a week to tiavei';s(> it, trav- 
eling day time and night lime. WluMi yon are in a Hwiftly- 
nioving train the distanct'S out VVeHt seem great enough, but 
when .\()ii are beating il on a slow (Uie lliey seem ( iidiesB. 
Hundreds of miles is a long slreleh, but wlieii you are crossing 
stales every one of which is hundicds of mib s wide, the 
travel grows very monotonous and wearisonu;, and yon aro 
not. very sorry wh(Mi your destination is reached. That is 
how I felt. II seemed lo me lo \)o a coon's age since I had 
left Frisco, and 1 was now but liltl<> more than half way across 
the conlineiil. This bliKUiiiiig (■luiliiienl of ours is a big one*, 
believe me, and if you dnn'l lielieve me, just you beat your 
way across it and liiid out for yourself. 

I was now nearing Chicago, and the spell of th(! big (;ity 
was coming over me. I imagined il would not be a bad jilan 
if 1 remained in the Windy Oity a few diiys to rest up and 
recuperate. Chicago is full of thealrt^s and aninsement places 
and a fellow can have lots of fun if lie knows where to look 
for it. I had been thcr<^ befort! and was fairly well ac(piainted. 

I lauded in the burg in good shape one beaut ifnl si)ring 
evening, and after disposing of a hearty siipp( r, |iul in a 



124 

pleasant evening. The next morning, bright and .early I 
started out selling signs. 

The one that went best was "Every time you take a drink 
things look different," which went fairly well in the saloons, 
but the Chicago saloon-keepers were a cheap lot who tried 
to beat me down in the price. They offered me ten cents 
for the sign, saying that twenty-five cents was too much. Not 
a few declined to buy unless I came down in the price. This 
I would not do. Some people like to see all the money come 
their way; they hate to see it go from them. It seems a pain- 
ful operation to some people to part with money. Consid- 
ering, though, I did fairly well. 

Although 1 was peddling without a license no one held 
me up, for I was trying to earn an honest living. I was not 
selling anything that would take the bread and butter out of 
anyone's mouth. 

I happened to get into Clark street — the upper or lower 
end of it, which ever it may be termed— along which, on both 
sides of the street, there are clothing stores conducted by 
Hebrews. Any stranger who goes through that street has to 
run the gauntlet of their fire, for the owners of the stores, or 
pullers-in, stand outside and coax or drag one in. It is diffi- 
cult to resist them for they are awfully persistent. One fel- 
low grabbed me and said "can't I sell you a nice suit of cloflies 
today?" I answered him that I was broke, but he wouldn't 
believe me. Evidently he had heard such tales before. I 
told him. that T was peddling signs, grafting myself, and that 
I was a poor chap. "What kind of signs?" asked the mer- 
chant; "let me see dem!" 

I went in and showed him the signs. He loolved over them 
carefully, but would not buy one. 

"Say, let me show you ah fine suit ah clothes," said he; 
ah got here ah fine suit for five dollars; for five dollars: tink 
of dot!" 

"I ain't got no five dollars," retorted I. 

"What size do you wear?" persisted the merchant. 



125 

"Damifino," said I. "It's a long time since 1 bought any 
clothes." 

"I kin see dot ; dot's why I want to sell you some. Here's 
somedings fine, und only five dollars to you, because you are 
a poor man. Lay down your bundle und look at der goots!" 

I gently deposited my bundle containing the signs on top 
of a pile of clothing where I could keep my eye on them, and 
examined the clothes. They looked good enough, but would 
they wear? 

"Dry 'em on! dry 'em on!" ordered the boss. 

"Oh, what's the use trying 'em on? I haven't ;!;o( money 
enough to buy 'em." 

"How much have you got?" 

It was none of his business, so I cocked up my chin 
aggresively and asked him "what would you give to know?" 

"Come now, partner; I know you like dot suit; 1 vill let 
me you haf it for $4.50." 

"Nothing doing; I ain't a going to buy any clothes today, 
so there's no use of you wasting your time. 

He saw that he was not going to make a sale so he got 
thundering mad and shouted, "get out of here, you dirty, 
lousy tramp or I trow you out!" 

"Throw out nothing! You couldn't throw out one side 
of me, you thieving sheeny," yelled 1. thoroughly ex-\sperated. 

"You want to fight mit me, you loafer you? You better 
get out right away quick before I trow you out." 

I shed my coat and told him to come on. He called to 
some one in the back room so I thought discretion the better 
part of valor. I put on my coat again, grabbed up my bundle 
of signs and skipped out, the merchant and I telling each 
other as I went out what we thought of each, in pretty loud 
language. 

Further down the street some more pullers-in grabbed 
me ))ut I broke away from them, and told them to go to a spot 
a few degrees warmer than Chicago. 

It was the Michigan Central that had the honor to gently 
waft me out of Chicago, and she used to be a i)retty hard 



12G 

old road to beat before the New York Central got a hold of 
it, but I had no trouble this time. 

I jumped the blind baggage on a passenger train one 
beautiful night and rode as far as Detroit without getting put 
off, and when the train was rolled upon a huge ferry-boat that 
took her across the Detroit River to Windsor, Canada, I went 
inside a coach like a regular passenger and never batted an 
eye. A fellow can soon learn how to do things if he keeps 
his wits about him and his ears and eyes open. 

At Windsor I jumped the "blind" again and then rode 
through a foreign country — Canada. The soil and country 
k)()l\s the same in Canada as it docs in the United States, 
but everything else seems different. The railroad cars are 
different, and so are the engines, the stations, and everything 
else about the railroads. The Canadian i)eople dress different, 
talk different, act different and are different in every way 
from United States folks, and the same may be said of the 
ladies, who are mighty nice, 1 think. They are prim, though, 
and will not flirt. 

1 enjoyed my ride through Canada very much, and not 
many hours afterward my train slowly rumbled across the 
Suspension Bridge at Niagara Falls. As I shall have a whole 
lot to say about Niagara Falls I will devote a chapter to it. 



CHAPTER IX. 
NIAGARA FALLS. 

A lady with poetry in her soul, when she first saw Niagara 
Falls and the country around it, declared that it seemed to 
her like the world's end, and her feeling was justified, for 
nature does seem chaotic around there. 

In the vicinity of the Falls there are whirlpools, eddying 
waters, steep and broken banks, the thunder of falling waters, 
high ascending mists and other things that seem uncanny. 
One will see no such things anywhere else, the wide world 
over. Everything does seem crude and chaotic, as if nature 
had been broken off there by some great forces but it was 
done gradually in the long ago. It was an irresistible stream 
of water, the Niagara River, that performed all the miracles. 

There is a city at the falls called Niagara Falls, which 
contains, I should judge, from forty to fifty thousand inhabi- 
tants, and a lively and beautiful place it is. It is full of large 
and elegant stores, curio shops, candy booths, fine bakeries, 
rooming-houses, hotels, restaurants, trolley lines that will 
take one around the Falls for a dollar, Ferris wheels, shoot- 
the-chutes, hit-the-nigger-in-the-head booths, shooting galleries, 
clam chowder places, hot-dog emporiums, candy booths, man- 
ufacturing establishments, fine drives, walks and many other 
attractions too numerous to mention. Fakers are there, too, 
.in unlimited quantities, and if you have plenty of money in 
your purse they will come pretty near getting some of it. 

Niagara River is a stream about half a mile wide, in parts 
it is very deep and it is about 100 miles long. It connects 
Lake Erie with Lake Ontario. As all the Great Lakes are 
connected — Lakes Superior, Huron, Michigan, Ontario, Erie, 
Georgian Bay, etc., their waters ever flow so that the Niagara 



128 

River never could run dry. It starts at Buffalo and runs on 
for twenty-five miles or so until it reaches the vicinity of the 
Falls, where a change conies over the scene. Its deep and 
swift-flowing waters then are divided by an island — Goat 
Island — -along either side of which the narrowed channels 
rush with the speed of an express train, the waters leaping 
over boulders and huge rocks in a mad way, hissing, foaming, 
boiling, whirling and roaring at a rate to render one deaf, 
dumb and blind, almost. Throw anything into these water's 
and it will be carried off so quick that you can scarce see it 
go. 

Near Goat Island where the river is divided there is a 
hill about 160 feet deep down which the whole river half a 
mile in width tumbles, and this constitutes the Falls. Think 
of it! A broad and deep river, half a mile wide, tumbling 
down a steep hill-side. An ordinary house when sixty feet 
high looks mighty high to you when you look up at it; double 
that height and add forty feet to it and you will get some idea 
what a height of IGO feet means. Imagine a whole river half 
a mile wide tumbling down such a height at once and then 
you will get an idea what Niagara Falls are like. The mass 
of water is so tremendous that when it strikes the rocks 
below, it makes a noise as of an awful loud thunder, which 
can be heard miles away, and the mists that arise from the 
thundering fallen waters ascend hundreds of feet into the air 
and can be seen a long distance off. What one sees and hears 
fills one with awe, and one wonders at the sublimity of God. 

At either shore of the river are high bluffs that look down 
to the bottom of the hill where the waters have fallen; and 
these bluffs, both on the Canadian and American side have 
been transformed into delightful parks wherein are benches, 
and sequestered nooks from which one can comfortably 
view the Falls. 

By far the better view of the Falls can be obtained from 
the Canadian side of the river, for there the Niagara iiiver 
is deepest and the volume of its waters that descend, greatest. 
As you walk leisurely along in the pretty park on the Cana- 



129 

dian side, views will unfold themselves to your gaze that will 
entrance you. Words cannot describe them. It is no wonder 
that people travel from remote countries to see such a won- 
derful sight. There are higher falls than Niagara but none 
that have such a volume of water. 

After the river has taken its involuntary and tremendous 
leap over the Falls it flows on placidly enough between lofty 
cliffs that are nearly 200 feet high. A mile or so below the 
Falls it strikes what is called The Lower Rapids, where again 
there is a tremendous turmoil of waters which leap over rocks 
and other obstructions, forming whirlpools, eddies, japids and 
other disturbances that are strange to witness. Along here 
there is a gorge through which the force of the river has cut 
a passage and a line of trolley cars will take one along on 
top of it for a small consideration. One can go by trolley, too, 
to Lewiston and other historic places along the river, clear 
to the shores of Lake Ontario. There one can take passage 
on a lake steamer for points in Canada. 

Goat Island, which lies between Buffalo and about a mile 
above the Falls, is a pretty little isle a mile or two in circum- 
ference containing trees, bushes and jungle, and at almost 
every turn it affords romantic views of the Niagara River. 
The scenery is wild and pretty. Along the high banks of 
the river, near the Falls on the American side, extends a gov- 
ernment reservation called Prospect Park, which is a natural 
forest somewhat improved artifically by well constructed 
walks, drives, refreshment and other public buildings. This 
is a favorite playground of the people. It is used as a picnic 
and pleasure ground and it is well patronized at all seasons 
of the year, but especially in the good old summer time. There 
are multitudes of visitors at the Falls at all times, and a mil- 
lion visitors a year would be a low estimate, I am sure. 

There is a line of trolley cars that runs from Buffalo to 
the Falls, a distance of about twenty-five miles, which 
charges fifty cents for the round trip. Its cars are crowded 
almost every day in the year and over-crowded on Sundays 
and holidays. They bring vast numbers to the Falls. There 



130 

lilt' viiriniis liii(>H of liiilroiids \vhi('l\ li!iv»> a Htiition at (lie Kails, 
too, and ciiibailv ov discniharlv passoniH(>rs (heir. In lad Ihe 
Falls ar(> never dull al any Heason of (he year, for there is 
sonielliiiiK doin^; all \ho lini(>, even in (he winter, when deep 
snow ll(<s on the j-ronnd and the ice Is tliiek. Then th<> Kails are 
>;rand(>st. some i)(>opl<> sa.\, but as I was not there at that 
llni(> of llie year I cannot say as to tills. 

1 riMiiained al Nianura a W(M>k and liad a .yood tinuv 1 
went to see tlH> Kalis every day and tlii>,\ iievi>r failed to aw(» 
me. I liUcd best to vi(>w tiicm from the Canadian side. 



(Mi.\r'ri':i{ x. 

MY BUFFALO SWEETHEART. 

Ibil'falo is ()n(< of the liaii(lsonu>st cities in tlie I'liited 
States and 1 will tell yon why I thiiil< so, so that .\()ii may 
Jiidm' for yourself whether 1 am ri.ulit or wroiij;. 

11' is sitnal<>d aloni; tli(> \'ia,t;ara River and hake llv'w and 
not so vcr\ far away from lh(> I'^alls. That is oiu* reason. 

Its slre«>ts are broad and handsome, seemin.i; mori> like 
lionlevards than streets, for there are double rows of line 
old shade trees in the driveways of many streets, rows of old 
tie(>s alonj; the sidewalks on either side of tlie street and the 
hoiiS(>s are set in ample uronnds and ar(> siirronndtMl by trees, 
shrubs and I1ow(M's; tlie.\ S(>(Mn like mansions set in parks. 
Tlial is ii>ason nnmtxM' two, 

Nearlv all tlu> ii>si(l(<iic(> streiMs are well-shaded, well- 
kept and well-pavcd and seem like boulevards rathcM- than 
str(>t>ts. as 1 said before. DtMaware avenue in the snmnier time 
is mor«> like tlu^ eoiintry than the elty, for it is wide, shady 
and eool ami one can scarcely see the mansions that stand 
embowered amid llie trees olT ili(> sti(>el. 

Th(»S(> are a I'mv but not ail of tlu> n^isons wh\ 1 deem 
Ihiffalo a luMnliful cily. Tlu> main street of Hnffalo. called 



i;;i 

I\l;iiii slicci, (livid. 'H III!' r.'sidfiicc lioin Ili<> hiisinrss H<'clioii 
'iinl il is .1 IliK . hiond tlioi-diiKliraic. inilrs in rNlciil. niiiniii;'. 
I'rdlll Ihc li<'j;illllillK of lil<> cjly <'|<',i|- (Mil into III,- (■(.iiillr.N, il 
is liiKMl on cilluM' side li.\ liniidsoiiic iiiui niilisl;iiil i.il IhisIuchh 
('shildisliriiciils, i\c;ir ils hcrJmiinr,, wln'ic llir sIciiiiImi.iIm 
ii;i\.> llicir liindiiif's. and llic railroadf; llicir drpol;), IIhmc ai<- 
Hoiiii' \ lie lodUiiir, slirrU) aiui (« V i 1 HMiid 11 II;', caiials, hill llial 
Jm <Ii ly hlciiiiHli Ihal I Haw In HnlTal(i. 

'I'lic hnsiiicsH sIrcclH radial inr, Iroin Main hIi<m'I air 
ijiiainl and allnrin;; and nol a lew cf ilnni ;mv wril sliadrd, 
'""• I"!' ix-plar Ir.M's l.rin;- wrll in .•vid.Micc (and a mI lair.lil 
•'""' ii"l'l'' li«'i' 111.' iiDjdar is, wilh il^ hIIvitn, I r-nihilnf: 
Iravi's), 'I'll.. liiiil.lin;',s nn lli.'s.. ;aiv,.|,s aiv of ,i iinl(|ii.' pal- 

(••ni Ihal on.' will n,>l h IscwIi.t.' an. I llicy pi, 'as.' lli.' laiicy. 

■Moiir. 111.' lak.' Ir.inl ili.'iv juv sIivcIh an. I av.'iiii.'s lui.'li as 
I'orlcr avcmu^ dial arc cliai'ininK, an. I wliicli al'f.ird a \ i<",v ..I' 
tlio lioimdicss waters ol' Lake lOric Th.' wal.'is nF llii.s lake 
•'^'•'"'l '•» 'III' liori/.on ,ind on.' wonilcis wlial is licunid Hi. 'in. 
Like 111.' sea, lli.'\ iii.\sliry and aw.- one 'I'licr.. .-ir,. ,,|li,.|' 
(•ili««K in 111.- Unil.'d Slal.'H Ihal ar.- Ii.-anl iliil, such .ui U'och 
I'Hicr, Cleveland, Toledo, Dunkirk, elc, imi none Ihal I liiivo 
evei' seen nur|iasHeH MiilTiiid. New York <'il.\ lias Hcni'c<dy ii (rno 
111 nil ilH Ilia/.' of sircels ami is nol heantirnl. II eannol he- 
kIii Io <'()iii|)ar.' willi ItnlTalo. 'I'liis, h.)\v<'\.-i, is, a iiiatlci ol' 
tuHlc ami Ihcit- are pcoiile who will disagree wilh nic. I 
wisii llit-ni a heller lasl.'. 

The p.-ople in Miirralo are ;ih nice as lliey can |i.-, hh niec 
iiH (heir (•!(> In.l.'.-d, lor I hey have the wide and hree/,y wayH 
oI'IIh- W. hI ahoiil I lieiii, an.l a re lice and conipanioiiabli". I'roh 
ahly (heir heantirnl .snrroniidliiK.s inllneiice Ihcir disposll Ion. 
for ciivii'oiiiiieiit, HOMH'I lines does do Ilia I. 

AloiiK (he lower pari of Main Hircet near ilie railroad 

(le|)ot,s iiiitl hoal laii.lin.i's, there are any n h.'r of r.-slanranlH, 

Baloons, rriiil and olli.'r Htorcs, :in<l il wiih in thai locality 
ni.V hIkhh .sold best. They went like hiickwiieal eiikes (Hi .i 
cold iiioriiiiiK, and tlier.- was no heatlii),; down in llie price 
oKlier. The peopl.- wer.' inakiii); iikmicn and were williipv 



132 

to let some of it go. Good people! Up near EUicott Sciuare 
1 wont into a high toned candy store which was presided over 
by one of the prettiest blonde girls 1 had ever seen. She 
looked over my signs carefnlly and laughed immoderately 
at some of them. 1 fell in love with hur at first si^ilit and 
sh(> knew it. You can't fool a girl very uiucli in matters of 
that kind. .\s tiuM-i> were no customers in th(> stort> at tlie 
time tile young lady and I had quite a chat. She was slight 
and slender, had golden hair, blue eyes, i)retty features and 
a charming maniuT. I am very partial to blondes, for I am 
a brun(>tte myself, but 1 do not despise charming girls of an\- 
complexion or hue. I introduced myself to the >()ung lady, 
told her a gicat deal aliout myself and begged tlu> privilege 
of taking a. stroll with her on the nu)rrow, wliich luckily haj)- 
pened to be Sunday. She was willing, so an appointment 
was made then and there. Wasn't T in luck".' The beauty's 
front name was Rose, but what her last name is don't matter. 

Did I call on her'.' Yes, indeed 1 did, and was well received, 
loo. We strolled out to Porter Pai'k, sal on a bench tav'iug the 
uixslerious waters of the lake ( lOrie), and chatted: ! look Ium' 
baud in miue, pressed it. and took tlu> liberty to iufoi'm her 
thai 1 loved lu>r. She did not get angry; on the contrar.^, she 
suiileil, 1 wound my arm around her waist and i)ressed her 
to me. She must have liked it for she did not resent it. She 
turned her lips u|) to mine to be kissed, and they were 
sweeter than honey. How I did kiss that girl, how ardent and 
impetuous T becanu' 1 am ashamed to say. but Rose was game 
and met me half way. She seemed to I'auc.v me all right. 

"How do you like HufYalo'?" askiMl Rose, after a breatiiing 
spell from kissing and hugging. 

"It is a grand place." answered 1! "1 would like to live 
here." 

"Why don't you'.'" asked shi\ 

"How can I?" asked I; "you know what my plans are and 
thai 1 shall have to leave here soon, but while 1 tlo stay I'd 
like to see more of yon. May I?" 

"Yes," murmured she. 



1:5:5 

"Will you take a iiioonliKlit rido over to Crescent I^each 
with nie tomorrow night?" asked 1. 

"Yes, I will," replied she with slight hesitation. 
My heart fluttered with joy for Rose was l)uilt just right 
for love, for though a Venus of a fragile soiM, yet she was 
strong and could be as tender as strong. Ours was a case 
of Venus aiul Adonis, only I am not an Adonis. 

Fair Rose and 1 found love to be as sweet as Venus and 
Adonis ever did, and we met as often as we could. We went 
over to Crescent Beach on a, cosy little lake steamer — fare 
twenty-five cents the round tri])— and sought out tiie darkest 
corner of the boat, where we made love to our heart's content, 
but our hearts never were cont^ented foi' we would be hand- 
jn-hand, ogling and kissing eacl? other all the rime. We 
never tired of the exercise. Let me sii\- ii,i;!il hrvo, (hough, 
that Rosie was a virtuous girl and would nol permit nu' to 
take any liberties with her. For this I loved her all the more. 
She was a sweet and tender girl, and, ye Gods! how siie did 
love to be hugged and kissed! Finally she gave me a few 
kisses in return. How modest and sweet they were! 'PheK! 
surely is nothing half so sweet in life as love's young dream. 
It is a glimpse of heaven, of pure and unadultcM'atcMl bliss i Its 
joys are sweeter than any other — ecstatic. 

The dear girl and I met as often as possible and that was 
every evening, for we were both at work- during (he day, 
Rose in the candy store and 1 at sign s(>lliug. It was au awful 
wrench for us to part but it had to be done f1nall.\. The last 
evening we were together I said to Rose, "we shall have to 
part tomorrow, sweetheart." 

"Oh, don't go; don't leave me," ImplortMl the l^'w] with 
tears in her eyes. 

"You know T must go; 1 hale (o leave .\i)u l)u( (lu(.s' 
compels me." 

Rose snivelled and 1 fell like crying m.\self, but I could 
not do so. 

•Til come to see you when I return from the old country. 
I suppose you'll be right here in Buffalo. I'll tell the conductor 



134 

to 'put me off at Buffalo'," said I, repeating the words of a 
song well known to many, in a sort of jocular waj-. Many 
endearing things did I say to the sweet girl, and amid tears, 
hugs and kisses, we parted. 



CHAPTER XI. 
NEW YORK CITY. 

New York got my goat. It has millions of inhabitants 
but it is about as lonely a city as you will find the world over 
if you have no friends there. The people are all so busy 
trying to get along, to make both ends meet, that they have 
little time to talk to you or to care much about you. Each 
for himself and the devil for all, seems to be the prevailing 
way of feeling there, though the people are by no means 
heartless. It is just their way. There are other places like 
New York in that respect. 

I landed in the Grand Central Depot, Forty-second street 
and Fourth avenue, when I struck New York, and as soon as 
I stuck my nose out of the depot I felt that I had landed in 
a. frigid town. A crowd of people rushed one way and a big- 
ger crowd the other way, making a fellow wonder where they 
all came from and where they were going. Some entered 
cabs and were driven away; others entered street cars, and 
not a few walked. I walked. 

Every one of the crowd seemed to know where he or she 
was going, but I did not, for I was a stranger in the city and 
knew not which way to go. I stood on the broad plaza in front 
of the railroad depot for a few moments kind of bewildered 
and not knowing which way to turn. 

As my means were limited I could not afford to mix in 
with rich people, so I wondered which direction to take to get 
where people of my own class lived. I did not like to stop 
any one to ask questions for the very look they gave me as 



135 

they passed, hinted that they had not the time to answer 
questions. I did not like to take the chances of being snubbed. 

"Chicago is kind of a cold place, Windy, but this place has 
got it skinned," said I to myself. "You've run up against a 
cold crowd. This will have to be your abiding place for 
awhile, though, old man, so, you might as well try to make 
the best of it. Keep your eyes and ears open and keep mum." 
These were some of my thoughts but not all. 

I strolled down Fourth avenue to Thirty-fourth street, but 
everything looked far too swell for a poor son-of-a-gun like 
me. "You're out of your beat, Windy; get off it!" says I. t 
walked down Thirty-fourth street to Eighth avenue, and as 
Eighth avenue did not seem to be as swell as some of the 
other streets I had passed, I walked along this avenue north- 
ward. Both sides of this thoroughfare were wriggling and 
squirming with people, and such crowds I never saw before. 
Although the sidewalks were broad, there was hardly elbow- 
room for the throngs which were traveling in both directions. 
Did you ever disturb an ant hill and see how the little crea- 
tures rushed back and forth in masses? That is how the 
masses of people on Eighth avenue seemed to me. There 
never was an ant hill, though that contained a tithe of the 
number of creatures that Eighth avenue did. 

T mixed with the push and wended my way slowly up-town, 
taking in the sights as I walked. All the people seemed well- 
dressed, in a metropolitan style of their own, and walked 
along without deigning to glance at one, hardly. They seemed- 
intent and distant. In the midst of no throng did T ever feel 
so lonely. 

Eighth avenue is built up solidly for miles willi brick or 
stone structures that are three or four stories in height and 
have rather an old-time and old-fashioned appearance. Nearly 
every structure consists of a basement, or cellar, with a store 
above it on the ground-floor, and above the store, dwelling 
apartments. 

The stores are fitted up fine and the show windows allur- 
ingly. All the show windows are crammed with goods labeled 



13G 

enticingly to coax the money out of one's pocket and it is 
awful hard to resist. The bakeries allure one and so do the 
candy stores, the delicatessen stores, the groceries, the dry 
goods, hat, boot and shoe, clothing and other stores. Had I 
had plenty of money in my purse, it would have been awfully 
hard to keep it there. Oh, those candy stores, those bakeries, 
those delicatessen stores! How my teeth did water as I 
threw a fleeting glance into them; but the mob, biast it, 
wouldn't give me a chance to stop and look. I had to keep 
a moving or else be shoved or elbowed aside. 

Above Forty-second (and below it, too), I came upon the 
"Coon" section of New York, and there I saw more "culled 
pussons" to the inch than I had ever seen to the mile any- 
where else. Chicago is the proud possessor of a few coons, 
but it seems to me that there are a hundred in New York 
to ten in "Chi." Coons till you can't rest on Eighth avenue, 
whichever way you turn, and every mother's son and daugh- 
ter of them is dressed to kill, and feels in every way 
superior to "de white trash," whom they look down on. Do 
you think a black lady or "gemmen" will step aside for you on 
Eighth avenue? Not much. It is for you to step aside, and if 
you do not you will be elbowed. 

It makes one stare to see the style some of these colored 
people put on, and I wondered where all the money came from 
to feed and clothe them. Many of the stores along the ave- 
nue cater to the darky trade, and few of them turn it down. 
Some white restaurants are patronized wholly by coons and 
do a roaring trade. 

I was getting tired by this time and hungry and thirsty 
as well, so I concluded to seek out some restaurant or a 
saloon. I concluded that a saloon would be the best place 
for me, for there I could eat, drink and rest. 

It did not take me long to find a saloon for they are thick 
enough on Eighth avenue, and I noticed one at a corner which 
had gaudy and elaborate signs over it, a highly artistic front 
of plate and cut-glass, and brightly painted panels, etc. I 
stepped in and found myself in a large apartment that had a 



137 

marble floor, elaborately carved counters, recherche glass- 
ware on a back-bar; opposite the bar there was a long counter 
which was covered with a handsome white table cloth on 
which stood huge bowls containing bread, cheese, tripe, 
bologna and other kinds of sausage; clams, steaming soups, 
radishes, pickles, etc., a layout to make a hungry man's teeth 
water. 

I valiantly strode up to the bar and to the bartender 
murmured, "a schooner, please!" Like a flash the bartender 
set a huge glass of foaming, sparkling beer before me. It 
looked good to me. The price was only five cents — cheap as 
water, almost. 

I walked over to the free lunch counter slowly and delib- 
erately, grabbed a fist-full of cheese and some bread and then 
walked back to my beer where I slowly ate and drank. Then 
I carried my beer over to the lunch counter and I tackled 
everything on the bill of fare in turn, and not in such very 
small quantities either. The beer tasted so delicious that I 
ordered another schooner and at the same time I paid my 
very best respects to the lunch counter. I ate so much that 
I began to bloat and became ashamed of myself. For ten 
cents I ate and drank as much as I could hold. After I had 
eaten and drank I pulled forth my pipe, loaded her up and 
went into the rear room where I sat down, rested and smoked. 
I did not care to look at a newspapSr just then, although 
there were plenty of them there for the use of patrons. It 
was astonishing to see the business done in this establishment. 
The swinging doors were never still a moment, for there 
were people constantly passing in and out. Several bar- 
keepers were kept on the jump behind the bar and the free 
lunch counter attendant had all he could attend to, dealing 
out soup and clams, and replenishing empty dishes. 

Truly it was a rare study in human nature to watch the 
throngs in this place but not an edifying one by any means, 
for the majority of the patrons of the place were loafers, 
bums, tough-nuts and criminals. It did not take me long to 
find that out, for the manner, ways and speech of these people 



138 

revealed their disposition. Tough-nuts they were, nearly all 
of them, and many of them Tenth avenue loafers at that — very 
hard citizens. 

After I had rested sufficiently I emerged from the drink 
palace and strolled further up the Avenue toward Central 
Park. After walking a few blocks a fearful thirst assailed 
me and I began to spit cotton. I tried ta figure out what 
had come over me and concluded it must have been the free 
lunch, which had been well salted. I concluded to quench my 
abnormal thirst with an ice cream soda. That is not a bad 
remedy for such a malady, into a palatial candy store I stepped 
where ice cream and soda were on tap at all hours of the 
day and far into the night. There I had a huge schooner of 
ice cream soda for only five cents. My, it was delicious! A 
fellow can live like a fighting-cock in New York for little or 
no money, and maybe that is why such multitudes are content 
to abide there and could not be driven out of it. There one 
can get the best of everything at a low price. This fact 
explains much — means volumes.' That is why New York is 
such an over-grown place, maybe. 

I walked up to Central Park, which is a world-famous 
pleasure ground about two and a half miles long by about a 
mile wide, and near its Eighth avenue entrance sat down on 
a bench to rest and to view the passing throngs. Carriages, 
automobiles and all kilids of vehicles rolled by and the paths 
were thronged with pedestrians. The people were of all 
nationalities: and such a well-dressed mob it was! No one 
looked shabby, for every one put on a front of some kind, 
and some put on a whole lot of it, too. You'd think they were 
millionaires, to see them, but maybe they were only waiters 
or dish-washers. It don't cost much to put on style in New 
York City, apparently, for a little money can be made to go a 
long wa.v, and a whole lot of credit is probably extended. 

It is easy to live in New York if you know how, but how 
some people live is a mystery known only to themselves. 
These were some of the thoughts that flitted through my brain 
as I sat and observed the passing crowd in vehicles and afoot. 



139 

A good many of the "pedustrians" (as I heard a darky call 
pedestrians) were "on the mash," that is to say, they were 
in the park "to pick-up something," as they termed it, in the 
shape of an affinity. There were plenty of both sexes to 
pick-up and to be picked-up. The New Yorkers are ou to 
themselves and know how many beans make five. 



CHAPTER XII. 
HENRIETTA. 

Byron in his Hebrew Melodies has said that: 

"She walks in beauty, like the night 
Of cloudless climes and starry skies — " 

What beautiful thoughts these are and how charmingly 
expressed! Byron's thoughts — at least some of them — are 
like diamonds; they sparkle and scintillate in a manner to 
dazzle the beholder. This matchless poet has described in 
verse, scenes of Italy, Greece, Spain and other countries in 
a manner that no other writer has surpassed, even in prose, 
for more beautiful language never was written. Take the 
single line "cloudless climes and starry skies." What a world 
of meaning and description it implies! In a truthful and com- 
prehensive way it fairly describes Austria, Italy, Greece, 
Turkey, Spain, Florida, California and other semi-tropical 
climes where the skies are ever blue and the sun smiling. In 
such climes one can sit beneath a vine or fig tree and conteni' 
plate the beauties of nature. 

Poetry has filled my soul, neighbor, as you see. It was 
not Byron's poetry that filled me up and made me spill over, 
but the sight of a beauteous creature, a maiden. Don't blame 
me, please. 

Let me try to unbosom myself intelligently. After 1 had 
arisen from the bench where I had been sitting, I walked along 



140 

the well-kept pathway into the park, feeling happy and gay; 
for it was the late spring season of the year, verging on to 
June, when the essence of hope permeates the empyrean 
when the trees and flowers are in full leaf and when all nature 
is garbed in her newest and prettiest dress Then one is full 
of joy, of hope and of happiness. Many people passed by me, 
chatting and laughing in a gay manner, some in groups, some 
singly and some in pairs, but one young lady who drew near 
me and who was all alone, attracted my attention at once. 

She was a girl a little above the medium height, rather 
slender and graceful as a fawn. She wore a form-fitting dark 
velvet dress, upon which was sewed in semi-circular fashion 
from the centre of the shoulder to the waist, a number of 
large white buttons which were about the size of a dollar; 
from the waist down to the hem of the dress, extended a 
straight row of similar buttons, which formed a continuous 
line and presented a unique effect. Upon her small and 
shapely head sat a straw CJainsborough hat which was turned 
up at the side, and her long, slender arms and hands were 
encased in long gloves. 

The girl's hair was luxuriant and dark, her eyes were 
black, her features small, her face was oval in shape and her 
complexion of an olive hue. Her form was lithe, yet fully 
rounded and her breasts were small, firm and round. Had 
she carried a bow in her hand and a quiver of arrows slung 
across her shoulder she might have passed for Diana, the 
Goddess of hunting. 

Almost every one who saw her turned to look at her 
the second time and stared at her; but whether it was be- 
cause of her unusual style of beauty or because of the foreign 
style of her dress, I do not know. The girl threw a glance at 
me as she approached and I was a goner at once. I lost my 
heart. My heart went pit-a-pat and I blushed, but I had the 
temerity to raise my hat to the young lady in salutation. She 
acknowledged the salute with a bow and a smile. "Faint 
heart never won a fair lady,' thinks I, so I stepped up to the 



141 

beauty and entered into a conversation witli her, and she was 
kind enough to tolerate it. ' 

With her permission I directed her footsteps baclv into 
the park from which she was about to emerge, and chatted 
with her, feeling as proud and happy as a lord. She told me, 
among other things that her father and mother were natives 
of Hungary, in Austria, but that she was American born. She 
also told me that her name was Henrietta. She talked English 
perfectly and was American and right up-to-date in all 
respects, though it was plainly to be seen that she had also 
rather a bizarre, Magyar taste. She graciously gave me leav(^ 
to become her cavalier and consented to be my chaperon, for 
I had informed her that I was a stranger in New York City. 
She laughingly told me that she would try to lose me some- 
where. We wended our footsteps to the Mall, which is a 
broad, leafy avenue lined with statues, and underneath which 
there is a refreshment place where ice cream, sandwiches, 
cakes, coffee, soda water and other light refreshments are 
sold. This refreshment place is under a wagon bridge and has 
chairs and tables outside of it where those so inclined may 
sit and eat or drink. 

Henrietta and I sat down at one of the little tables, the 
cynosui'e of all eyes, and had an ice. What sweet nothings 
we said to each other and how happy we were! Later on we 
took a boat ride on a charming little lake near by., in ja gon- 
dola; the gondola being propelled by an Irishman dressed up 
as a Venetian. As we were rowed around the lal<e 1 noticed 
some sequestered and secluded little arl)ors down near the 
water's edge, with rustic seats in them, that were admirably 
fitted for love-making. I concluded then and there that after 
our boat ride was over I would steer the lovely Henrietta 
into one of these love bowers. And I did, too, and she was 
nothing loth. Love was our theme. The lovely Henrietta 
was built for love, for to her love was life, joy — -everything. 
Existence to her was nought but a dream of love; all else 
beside was nothing. Her breath was sweet as a babe's, her 
soul full of fire, her form supi)l(' and yielding as a willow 



142 

wand, and her lips were made to be kissed. She liked to be 
kissed. Every other moment she would throw herself back 
into my arms and put up her lips She brought to my memory 
the lines inscribed by Lord Byron to Ellen, which run thus: 

"Oh, might I kiss those eyes of fire 

A million scarce could quench desire; 
Still would I steep my lips in bliss 
And dwell an age on every kiss; 

Nor then my soul should sated be, 

Still would I kiss and cling to thee. 
Though the number did exceed 
The golden harvest's countless seed, 

Still would I kiss and cling, forever; — 

Can I desist? Ah never, never!" 

Henrietta volunteered to show me the latest style of New 
York kiss. She asked me to throw my head back, to turn my 
eyes upward toward the skies and then she pecked at my 
lips quickly and often, as does a dove when picking up seeds. 
She asked me how I liked the style and I responded that it 
was delicious, but that I liked the old-fashioned way the best. 
I declared that to fold her sinuous form in a tight and loving 
embrace and to cling and embrace, suited me best. 

Oh, what a spring day of love and happiness we put in! 
Such days in a life-time are few and rare. Oh, why cannot 
such happiness last always? In this life, it is joy, then 
sorrow; light, then shade. Alas! 

Henrietta and I afterward explored the near by caves 
and grottoes in the park; we sought out other retired spots 
and there we continued our love-making. Henrietta was a 
game-bird and never tired of love-making; but she would let 
me go just so far and no further. 

A year or two after our meeting in the park I happened 
to be in New York and met Henrietta by accident on the 
street. She was married then and had grown so stout that 
she had become unwieldy. The contrast to what she had been 



14; 



was so great that it almost staggered me. I hope she has a 
dozen kids running around by this time. If she has not, she 
ought to have, for New York likes to have its population 
increase. 



CHAPTER XIII. 
I SECURE A JOB. 

I found the grafting in New York too hard tor me. For a 
day or two I tried to sell signs— I forgot to say that I had left 
the signs securely tied up in a bundle in the baggage-room 
at the Grand Central Depot— but, it was up-hill work, for no 
one was willing to pay twenty-five cents for a sign, intimating 
to me that twenty-five cents a dozen would be a more reason- 
able price. This discouraged me, so I concluded to find work 
of some kind, if I could. That was no easy matter, however, 
for, although there were plenty of jobs to be had, there was 
a mob after each one. A "help wanted" advertisement in a 
newspaper usually would bring applicants by the hundreds. 
I concluded .that the wisest thing for me to do would be 
to go from place to place in quest of work, for the worst that 
could happen to me would be to be turned down; and if by 
any chance there was a job of some kind vacant I could step 
in to it right away without any loss of time. 

I made up my mind to try the hotels at first, as they 
employ a great deal of unskilled help, such as yardman, 
pantryman, assistant waiters (called omnibusses), assistant 
stewards, assistant porters and the like. I started in at the 
Astor House, away down on Broadway, and called at every 
hotel of any size or consequence as far up as Thirty-fourth 
street, but I met with no success. I was treated with civility 
wherever I went but was told in every place that they were 
full-handed, or that they were sorry to say there was no 
opening. I did not despair, however. I set out again on my 



144 

quest the following morning, and after calling at several 
places, stepped into a catering establishment on Fifth avenue, 
which is one of the largest and most famous in the country. 
Although not a hotel, this establishment is contained in a 
building several stories in height and supplies banquets and 
parties on the outside or inside That is to say, if you desire 
to give a party or banquet at your home, this caterer will 
supply all the eatables, drinkables, waiters, etc., for the 
occasion; or, if you wish to give the party or banquet at the 
rooms of the caterer, you can do so, for he has banquet-rooms, 
a ball-room, dining-room, etc., in his establishment, sufficient 
to keep several banquets or parties going at the same time. 

In the basement of this large and commodious building 
are situated the store-rooms, in which are glassware and 
crockery ware in barrels and crates; groceries, stores and 
staples of all sorts; the office of the steward and his assist- 
ant; a business office, lumber-room and the like. On the 
floor above, fronting on Fifth avenue will be found a candy 
store which can be entered from the street, and in which are 
for sale the choicest of candies, bon bons, favors, etc., which 
are sold at retail and are made on the premises, for this 
establishment employs only the best artists in the culinary, 
baking, and confectionery line. 

On the floor above this — the second story — are numerous 
private dining-rooms, which can be connected or disconnected, 
as occasions require; and on the third story are large banquet 
halls and the ball-room. The fourth floor contains spacious 
and immaculate kitchens which are presided over by an army 
of chefs and assistants, all of whom are thorough, for they 
have served a long time at their trade and could not hold a 
job in that establishment if they were not so. There are 
vegetable cooks, pastry cooks, meat cooks, boilers, roasters, 
sauce and pudding makers, etc., and their assistants. 

On the top story there are dormitories for the housekeeper 
and her maids, who keep the house in order, clean up, sweep, 
dust, etc. There is half a dozen or more of these female 
servants. The waiters, omnibusses, porters, cooks and other 



145 

male help do not sleep on the premises, but room outside, 
wherever they choose. Among the other help required in this 
huge caravansary is a window-cleaner whose duty it is to 
keep every window in the building as bright and shiny as a 
new dollar. Another man polishes up the brass work around 
the gas-jets, chandeliers, etc. 

I don't know what happened to the window-cleaner that 
morning, but he did not show up, and as the work had to be 
done, I was given his job when I applied for it, for had I not 
been on the spot to apply for it, the manager would have sent 
for a hand from somewhere. I was given a trial at twenty- 
five dollars a month and board, and was told that if I did 
my work right I would have a steady job. I was told just 
what I would have to do and was shown how the windows 
were to be cleaned, which was by washing them with hot 
water, then drying them with newspapers and afterward 
polishing them with a chamois. 

The work was easy— dead easy. I did not have to polish 
up every window in the establishment every day, but as many 
as I cared to do. In fact there were so many of them that it 
took me a week to finish from cellar to attic. I worked from 
8 A. M. to 5 P. M. and it was the softest snap in the way of 
a job I had ever struck, and I have worked at many. I pol- 
ished a window slowly and carefully and no one ever said a 
word to me, for I was practically my own master. The house- 
keeper was my superior, and as she saw no windows that 
looked bad, she said nothing to me. 

The board was extra fine; in fact it was a trifle too rich 
for a poor man. There was roast goose, chicken, duck, game 
of all sorts for dinner every day; oysters, rich sauces and 
gravies; pastries, pies, wines, etc., all of which were left-over 
vituals from banquets, parties, etc., and we certainly lived 
off the fat of the land. Sometimes on a morning I would go 
into a banquet-room that had not yet been ridded up and stuff 
my pockets with the most delicious of candies and cakes, but 
these rich things soon began to cloy. In fact, all the help pre- 
ferred the plainest of viands and had long ago tived of the 



14G 

rich kinds. One young Irish lad who had but recently landed 
from the old country was taken on by Teddy, the porter, as 
an assistant to him, and at dinner one day a dish of potato 
salad with mayonnaise dressing was set before him. He 
tasted it, spit it out contemptuously and complained angrily 
that he could not eat cold potatoes. He wanted them hot. 
Such stuff wasn't fit for a dog, he declared. 

I held this job down for about three months and saved all 
the money I could, for T had made up my mind to pay my 
way across to Europe on a liner. I saw a good deal of New 
York during those three months, for I got off at five o'clock 
every evening and the days were long. I familiarised myself 
with the city as much as I could. After my work was finished 
I would usually go to my room for a little while, to indulge 
in a wash and clean up, for I always tried to be neat and 
clean in my person, and then I would take a stroll to see the 
sights of the great city. Often I would take a Third avenue 
car and ride out to Fort George for a nickel — a distance of 
ten miles or more; at another time I would go to Coney Island, 
one of the livliest and dizziest summer resorts on the 
American continent today; or I would go to South Beach, 
Bowery Bay, Staten Island, Jamaica, Canarsie, Fort Hamilton, 
Bath Beach, Central Park, Bronx Park, the Aquarium down 
at the Battery, the Museum in Central Park AVest, etc. 

On a Sunday, which was a day off for me, I would cross 
over to the New Jersey side and visit Bayonne, Hoboken, 
Newark, Harrison, Kearney, the Orange Mountains or the 
pretty towns in their vicinity; or take a boat ride in a fine, 
large steamboat up the Hudson River, a stream noted for its 
picturesque scenery. T took a trip to Long Branch one day, on 
a cosy steamboat, which was about as interesting a sail as 
I ever took, for the scenery along the Shrewsbury River is 
incomparable in beauty and variety. 

Although New York itself is not very pretty, its sur- 
roundings are, and the poor can visit a thousand and one 
places in and around New York at a trifling expense. Little 
old New York, even if she is a "step-lively" town and full 



147 

of bloadMi iiiillionairps and boiui-hohhM-s, is not so ))ad a 
place to live in when once you get acquaint(>cl there and have 
learned the ropes. A great many poopl(> don't like New York 
because it is purse-proud, they say, and they also say that 
one is considered a mere nobody if he has no money. There 
may be some (ruth in Ihis, but if one stays in one's own class 
in New York, the rich will not bother one. What if they do 
turn up (lieir nose at you and regard you with ;i pitying or 
contemptuous stare, you need not mind. A. slock i)hrase in 
New York is. "Where did he get it?" (his wealth). A foreign 
lady who visited New York gave her impressions of that city 
to a New York newspaper, which published the ariicle. As 
every one is entitled to his or lier opinions, I will reiiublish 
those of the foreign lady here, although 1 am not responsible 
for her opinions. 

"New York'.' It is a wonderful city, a very big city, but 
I do not think a very nice city. Yon think of nothing but 
money. In tii(> day time you think of making it; in the night 
time of spending it. And your pleasures, or what you call 
your pleasures, are just as intense as your business. Is that 
pleasure? I do not think so. I have not seen much happiness 
in New York. You try so hard to get it. You do not ]v\ it 
come of itself. " 

The speaker was a concert singer, a Belgian lady; vivac- 
ious, cultured, and acquainted with most of the capitals of 
Europe. She continued: 

"You are always striving. Nearly everybody in New York 
has the autonu)bile face — or shall we say the New York face 
— always striving, never content. And then, some day you 
die — and of what use is the striving? Why not be happy 
now, like the Italians, or the French, or the Germans? Not 
here, but in their own countries. Go to Europe if you would 
see happy faces. They have not such high buildings as in 
New York, but they have happiness, which is worth more. 

"It does not seem to do the peoi)lo good to have these 
high buildings. The people in New York — no, I do not like 
them. In Mexico where I have been, and where I am going 



148 

now, the people are gentlemen. A man may be poor and clad 
in rags, but he carries his rags with grace. He has a native 
dignity, a courtesy that you do not seem to know at all in 
New York — not at all. You would think it a terrible thing to 
be deprived of electric lights or any other material thing. Is it 
not more terrible to be deprived of gentleness and courtesy? In 
no city in the world is a stranger subjected to such brusque- 
ness and rudeness as in New York. Is that a symptom of 
civilization? I do not think so. You have many lofty build- 
ings but the character of the people, that is not lofty. 

"Oh, yes; I know that in New York are many charming 
people. I have met many of them. But I speak of the mass— 
the people in the street, in the shops, on the cars. These are 
the people whom the stranger meets in New York, or Berlin, 
or Vienna, or any city, and it is on this basis that the city 
must be what you call, sized up." 



CHAPTER XIV. 

STEERAGE TO GLASGOW. 

It was a red hot morning in the month of August when I 
boarded a street car and rode down Broadway toward 
Bowling Green to see what kind of announcements there 
were in the steamship offices as regards a trip to Europe. I 
had thrown up my "yob," had saved a little money and was 
now ready to purchase a ticket for the old country. Steam- 
ship offices in lower Broadway and along Bowling Green are 
numerous, in fact that is where the majority of them are 
located, but the vessels themselves are berthed in piers along 
the Hudson River. In the vicinity of Bowling Green are situ- 
ated the offices of steamship lines that sell tickets for London 
direct, Liverpool, Hull, Bristol, Southampton, Dublin, Cork^ 
Belfast, Fishguard^ Rotterdam, Amsterdam and other dams; 



141) 

to Genoa, Paris, Havre, Trieste; Hamburg, Bremen— and in 
fact to so many other places that a fellow gets bewildered 
and hardly knows where to go. As I could not speak a foreign 
language I deemed it best to go to some country where I 
could understand what people said to me and who could 
understand what I said to them. This would avoid foreign 
complications, I thought. 

I stood in front of the Cunard office carefully studying 
the alluring posters which displayed pictures of *^^heir ships 
and gave general information as to sailing dates, etc. As I 
stood there intently studying the posters, a bum sidled up 
to me and asked, "Say, mister, are you thinking of going to 
Yerrup?" I looked at him from head to foot and asked him, 
"what do you want to know for?"' 

"Who, me?" replied he, slightly taken aback and taking 
time to gather his wits: "oh, I'm connected with a steamship 
office around on Greenwich street. We can sell you a ticket 
to any part of Yerrup you want to go to, and mighty cheap, 
too. Come along with me?" 

"Not on your life," said I. "Did I tell you I wanted to go 
to Europe?" 

"No, you didn't, but we sell tickets mighty cheap, 
cheaper than the steamship companies." 

"Oh, you do, do you?" said I, a little bit interested but 
suspicious of the fellow, who didn't look at all good to me, 
"how cheap ?" 

"Aw, that depends on where you want to go to. Say, 
mister, let me tell you something," said he earnestly and con- 
fidentially, and with a business-like air; "we kin sell you a 
ticket to Glasgow in Scotland, on the Anchor line, mighty 
cheap — in the steerage, and that is one of the finest trips in 
the world. The boats '11 take you past England, Ireland and 
Scotland, and show you some mighty fine scenery. Come 
with me; I'll fit you out in a jiffy." 

"What's a steerage ticket to Glasgow worth?" asked 1. 

"Only thirty dollars," replied he; "and you'll get the best 



1 r.o 

of grub, a good bed to slcc]) in and be over in Yerrup in two 
shalios of a lamb's tail." 

"Tliaf's faster than 1 want to go," retorted I. 

"Well, mister, the Anchor liners ain't so fast as some of 
de odders, but they kin go at a pooty good clip, I'm a-telling 
you; you won't be on the boat long." This was said enthusi- 
astically. 

There was a suspicion dee]) down in my heart that I 
would not see much of Europe if I bought a ticket from this 
chap, so I told him, decidedly and emphatically, that 1 would 
see him later. He slunk away much disapi)ointed. 

What he had told me about the Anchor line, api)ealed to 
me. 1 sought out that line and found it situated on Broad- 
way not far away. The steerage office was in the basement 
of the building, with a broad flight of stone steps leading 
down to it. T reconnoitered it carefully from the outside, 
read the sailing announcements, prices, etc., and then I 
timidly went down stairs and entered the office. 

The office was low and dingy, but snug, having a long 
counter at either side, on which was disposed sea literature, 
I)anipblels. booklets and circulars pertaining to foreign 
countries, ships, etc. Two or three clerks were in the office. 
As 1 stepped up to a counter a dapper young man glided up 
(o ni(> and remarked. "Well, sir, what can 1 do for you?" 
He was pretty cocky and self sufficient, and his manner did 
not please me. 

"Oh. T don't know as you can do anything for me," 
answeied I, rather huffily. "1 merely stepped in to find out 
the price of a ticket to Glasgow in Scotland." 

"Oh," exclaimed he, in rather an apologetic manner, 
"cabin or steerage'.'" 

"Steerage, of course; I'm no .John .Tacob Astor or Van- 
derbilt." The lah-de-dah young clerk displayed a sort of grin 
and then got off the following harrangue, parrot-like, as if he 
knew the speech by heart : 

"We can take you to Glasgow for twenty-eight dollars. 
You will have a good berth, good food and plenty of it; up- 



151 

to-date sleeping conveniences; and you .will reach Glasgow 
ten days after leaving here. The Furnessia. our next ship, 
sails Saturday, at 10 a. m., from her pier at the foot of West 
Twenty-fourth street. Do you want a ticket?" 

I cogitated for a moment. "Yes, give me a ticket," 
exclaimed I impulsively. 

In a jiffy the young man opened a drawer, pulled forth 
a long ticket, slapped it down on the counter and then began 
to ask questions. He wanted to know my name, where I was 
born, my father and mother's name, if I were married or 
single, my occupation, age, what I intended to do in the old 
country, how long I contemplated staying there, and a few 
other leading questions, all of which he wrote down and then 
handed me the ticket, first getting the money, however. I 
took the ticket, folded i( up and carefully placed it in my 
pocket. As I turned to go, the young clerk said to me, 
"Remember, please, foot of Twenty-fourth street, the Furnes- 
sia, Saturday morning al Hi o'clock. You want to be there on 
time or you'll get left!" 

"Don't you worry about me getting left, old man; I'll be 
there on time all right," retorted I. The young fellow said 
no more. Was I ha])i)y, now that 1 had secured my ticket? 
I was not. Dire forebodings began to assail me. As I had 
never been on the ocean, I wondered whethei' 1 would be sea- 
sick. No doubt 1 would be. What was sea-sickness like? 
Would it hurt a fellow? What would my reception be in the 
old country. Would 1 be received with open arms or clapped 
into jail? Billy had told me that an impecunious stranger 
didn't stand much of a show in England. I had about fifteen 
dollars remaining in my inside pocket after paying for my 
ticket, and that would see me through for a while anyway, I 
thought, until I could get my bearings. I was uneasy, though, 
I hardly know why. I had never left my native shore before, 
and was I wise in thinking of doing so now? Was I going on 
a mere wild-goose chase? What kind of experiences had fate 
in store for me? These and other thoughts floated through 
my brain and rendered me apprehensive and nervous. 



152 

This was Thursday. The vessel was to sail on Saturday, 
giving me two days' time to pack up. I didn't require two 
minutes time to pack up, for there was nothing to pack. All 
that I proposed to take with me were the clothes on my 
person and nothing more. Not even a valise, hand-satchel, 
or anything else. I like to fly "light," when I travel and don't 
like to be encumbered any more than is necessary. That has 
always been my method. There was bedding, grub and uten- 
sils on board the vessel, so what more did I need? Nothing, 
that I could see. Friday night was the last one I spent ashore, 
and I lay awake in my bed tossing nearly all night, for visions 
of disaster kept floating through my noddle. 

When the sun arose, I arose with it and went forth into 
the fresh air and sunlight, where I soon began to feel a little 
more cheerful. After walking leisurely through the deserted 
streets of New York for awhile — it was very early — I became 
hungry, and stepped into a restaurant where I had a good, 
square meal. 

Slowly, and deeply absorbed-like, I walked down the long 
streets to the foot of Twenty-fourth street, where the Anchor 
line pier is situated. The pier is several hundred feet long 
and entirely roofed over. In front of it is a huge double 
gateway for teams, and beside it a smaller one for passengers. 
I was about to walk through the passenger gateway when an 
official stepped up to me and asked me where I was going. 

"To Glasgow,'' responded I. 

"Let me see your ticket," requested he. I let him see 
it. "All right!" exclaimed he. 

In I went without further parley. 

The Furnessia was there, moored alongside her wharf. A 
good deal of freight was still being run on board of her and 
there were huge piles of baggage, too, alongside, awaiting 
shipment Very soon the steerage passengers began to arrive 
in squads. To look at them you would think that they were 
marquis, dukes and counts, for all of them were dressed to 
kill. 

Oh, the style of them! What do people who travel steer- 



15:i 

age want to put on lugs for? thought I; they are only third- 
raters. 

There was a vast throng of them and still they kept 
a-coming. The first and second class passengers kept a-roll- 
ing up in cabs, carriages and other vehicles; the scene was 
noisy and lively enough. 

There were two passenger gangways running up to the 
ship, one near the bows and the other near the stern; the 
one at the bow being for steerage passengers and the one at 
the rear for first and second-class. The first and second-class 
passengers would not deign to mix with third raters, not if 
they knew it. They held aloof from them and yet some of 
the steerage passengers might have been better folk than 
they. Money makes quite a difference on ocean liners, as on 
shore. A chain was slung across the steerage gangway until 
the boat was nearly ready to leave, barring the steerage 
passengers from going on board the vessel, but the first and 
second-class passengers could go aboard at any old time. 
When the chain was unfastened from the steerage gangplank 
there was a mighty rush upward, of men, women and children. 
Such a shouting, yelling, slipping and scrambling there was; 
reminding me of cattle-loading out West. The scenes were 
brisk and no mistake. Did I mix in with the push? To be 
sure I did, and held my own, too. 

When I got to the top of the gangplank a waiter in a white 
see-more jacket and peaked cap whispered to me: "Are you a 
single or married man?" The cheek of him! I asked him 
what he wanted to know for, whereupon he got huffy immedi- 
ately and exclaimed: "Here, young man, don't give me no 
sarce. T want tu know if ye're married or single?" Maybe 
he had a reason for asking the question, so I made reply, 
"single!" 

"That's the way to talk," said the mollified steward. "You 
go forward to the single men's quarters."' 

"Where's that?" queried I. 

"Forward to the main hatch," replied he. 



154 

1 did not know the main hatch from a chicken hatch, but 
I went forward just the same. After picking my way over 
anchors, chains, trunks, valises, hat-boxes, bandboxes and a 
few other impediments, I came upon a big square hole, down 
which several sailors were slinging things by means of a rope. 
During an interval from hoisting, I stepped up to a good- 
natured looking sailor and asked him where the main hatch 
was. 

"It's in the fo' castle," replied he. wath a wink at his 
mates; "do you want it?" 

"No, I don't," replied I: "I'm looking for the quarters for 
the single men." 

"Oh, that's the lay, is it? Why didn't you say so before? 
What was you askin' for the main hatch for? You goes for- 
ward till you finds a companionway, down which you goes; 
see?" I heard but I did not see. I did not know what a com- 
panionway was, nor had I ever heard of such a thing, but a 
fellow can learn a whole lot if he keeps his eyes and ears 
open. That is what I did; kept my eyes and ears open, and 
when I got to the forward part of the ship, which is called 
the bows, I noticed a stairway enclosed in a framework of 
wood, with a sliding hood or cover on top of it, which led 
below. Down it some of the steerage passengers were going. 
I followed them and went down the stairway, which w^as 
almost straight up and down, and had brass plates on each 
step to prevent one from slipping, and ropes instead of bal- 
ustrades. The stairway seemed like a ladder to me, but 
maybe it was good enough for lone bucks who travel in the 
steerage. 

1 had gone about half way down, when an odor came up 
that almost asphyxiated me. I had smelled some queer things 
in my day before, such as stale onions, decaying steers and 
the like, but this odor was totally unlike anything I had ever 
smelled. I can't define it, but it was a mighty subtle and 
penetrating one. It grabbed me by the throat and rendered 
me helpless. A dizziness came over me which compelled me 
suddenly to sit down on a step, my hand clutching the rail 



155 

for support. 1 began to chew and spit as if I were chewing 
tobacco. Suddenly a lump rose in my throat and I became 
so wealv at the stomach that I did not think I had any 
stomach at all. I began to heave up my breakfast then at a 
great rate. Oh, what a sick man I was! I had never been 
sick that way before, for my stomach had never gone back 
on me like that The heart had been taken clean out of me; 
I became as weak as a cat and you could have knocked me 
down with a feather. Some of the passengers, as they came 
down, looked at me and grinned, and probably thought it a 
good joke. Their heartlessness aggravated me and I cursed 
them in my heart. Maybe you'll get a dose of the same thing, 
said I to myself. 

I sat there a-grunting and a-groaning, unable to go up 
or down, and felt as if I wanted to die, for the straining and 
retching racked my frame in a horrible way. 

I expected that I was going to die and I didn't care a rap 
whether I did or not. Some people when they grow seasick, 
get sick all over, but some people never get seasick at all. 

As I sat there ruminating, grunting and a-growling, one of 
the sailors came down stairs airy-fairy fashion, as if he were 
dancing on eggs. With both hands he carried a huge black 
pan in which floated potatoes, roast meat, and gravy. I 
caught a whiff of the pan's contents and that was enough for 
me. I fired away again. Jacky remarked to me indignantly, 
"why don't you go on deck if you want to be sick; what do 
you mean by mussing up the ship like that?" 

Had I been able I would have swiped the heartless cuss 
one for luck, but I was too weak to raise an eyebrow, almost, 
let alone a fist. Those who have been seasick can realize 
just what my feelings were, and those who have not been, 
cannot. 

But, attached to my passage ticket there was a berth 
ticket, and if I wanted a berth I would have to go below to 
see the steerage steward about it, who would reserve it for 
me. But how was I going to get below? I positively could not! 



156 

I sat there a long while making up my mind. Finally I 
put my handkerchief to my nose and mouth, and went down 
slowly, step by step, halting on some steps to fire away and 
then to sit down. I got down at last. The steward gave 
me one look, hurriedly pointed out to me my berth, and 
advised me to go on deck again; to get all the fresh air I 
could. I followed his advice, for I divined that he knew what 
he was talking about. I guess it took me a full quarter of an 
hour to get up that stairway again. I gained the deck, sat 
down on a chain, away from everybody, and cussed myself 
for being such a fool as to go aboard a ship. 

It was nearly 10 o'clock by this time, and preparations 
were being made for departure. A ship's officer stood on top 
of a covered deck away up in the bow of the vessel and gave 
orders in a quiet, gentlemanly way to the slaves on shore, to 
let go the lines. The captain stood on the bridge looking 
around, saying nothing but taking in everything and giving 
signals to the fellows below. A big crowd was on the pier 
to see us off and nearly all of the passengers were on deck to 
bid a last adieu to their friends and acquaintances. All the 
ropes that had fastened the vessel to the dock were now being 
hauled on board of our vessel, and the pier was beginning to 
move away from us, at least so it seemed to me. but it was 
our vessel that was moving away from the pier. 

We were off! We were off! ! There was a deal of wav- 
ing of handkerchiefs, then of hands, of veils, parasols and the 
like, among the crowd on shore and on the vessel, and not a 
little blubbering, but n'er a blubber from me, not even a wave 
of the hand. I had no friends or relatives to see me off. I 
sat there observing the others. The mob on ship and ashore 
were shouting, gesticulating, waving things, hurrahing, etc., 
to beat the band. Go it! go it! says I to myself. For an in- 
stant T felt like taking a flying leap overboard to get asnort 
again, but that feeling was an insane one. Of course I was 
not so foolish as to do such a thing. 

The big steamer moved out of her pier quite slowly but 
it wasn't long before she was abreast of the head of the pier 



157 

and then out she moved into the stream, where she took the 
centre of the Hudson River, and then turned her nose down 
stream toward the Battery. It was a lively and picturesque 
panorama that was then presented to us. 

On the right hand side, on the New .Jersey shore, was 
old Castle Stevens, which loomed up plainly. Beyond were 
the Palisades, extending northward; southward were towns, 
docks and ships. On the New York side we could see piers 
extending far into the river; Tenth avenue, with its quaint 
brick and stone houses; a Tenth avenue horse car moving 
slowly along; and in the background, huge skyscrapers. 

In a very few moments the Furnessia was scooting along 
abreast of the Battery, or Castle Garden as it used to be 
called, for it was a fortified castle about 100 years ago and 
the grounds surrounding it are still there. Bedloe's Island, 
Ellis Island, Staten Island and other islands, we passed, all of 
which are utilized for some purpose or another, and on one 
of them stands the Goddess of Liberty, in bronze, holding 
up the huge torch of liberty that enlightens the world. 

Then we passed Brooklyn, Governor's Island, Bay Ridge, 
Fort Hamilton, Fort Lafayette, Fort Richmond, Bath Beach, 
Coney Island, the twin lights of the Highlands of Navesink, 
until finally we came up to and passed Sandy Hook, the last 
point of land we would see until we sighted the shores of 
Europe. 

Nothing could we now see around us except sky and 
water, and I wasn't stuck on that kind of scenery at all. It 
didn't look good to me. The day was fair but there was just 
the least bit of a swell on which caused the bow of the boat 
to heave up and down. From the place where I was sitting 
I could easily see her heave, but the motion was not enough 
to distress me. An ocean breeze was blowing strongly, 
accelerated by the movement of the vessel, no doubt, but it 
was exhilirating. It brought some strength back to me, but 
I still felt a gnawing at my stomach, as if there was a great 
vacancy there. 



158 

1 loolu'tl ill llic Krcfii and liiiubliii;; vvatt'is mil (lio 
prospect (luickly ^rtw moiioloiioiis lo nie, as did tlio endloss 
oxiJUUBc; of l)liic sl<y wliicli was (IccUchI Iutc and tluTo by 
fleecy, cuiiuilus clouds. I do Ixdicvc I was kcIUiik an ai)prc- 
tlt(>. Wind and sc( iici\ arc all imkIiI. Inn llicy dou'l (ill an 
cHiply sloiuacli. 

Tlic dinner Ixdi lanK and llicn lluM'c was a rnsl\ and u 
slainpcdc as ol' cat lie. Tlic stilT sail l)i'cezo nuiHl luivc glvon 
every one an appelile, lor tlio l)ncl\H didn't taiic lime lo insli 
down stairs, IIu'.n jnsl leaped down, not cariiif; mncli win re 
llwy laiuicd. 

'I'he sinKlc males roomed and lioai'ded separately as did 
tin- sinKle l'(>mal» s ami the nianied conples. I snppoae tliia 
is a necessary pi'ovision, hul il is Inird on the |)oor sinj;lti 
males and rennil(>s. However, Ihey can min^;l(> on declc and 
rcMnain IIum'c nntil dai'k, aller wliicli tlie\ have lo no thcii* 
separal(> wa,\s. 1 look no pari la tlu> stampede lo llie I'estivo 
hoard ludow. 1 went down slowlv ami carernll.v. li.\inK to 
iicep a slilT upper lip, I'or I needed a l)ili> lo eat. I Kot down 
all rir.hl .ind saw lielore me some lahles al either side ol 
wliicli were wooden, backless hi'iiclies, which wore fastened 
to the lioor. Uooni was made I'or me and I sat down, I'oclin;; 
dnhloiis. I was hmiKi'y but did 1 want to (>at'.' I didn't know, 
I'or sure! Some p(>a strnj) was lianded lo im< which 1 suiiped 
slowl\ .and found iniKhly j;ooil. 'riieii there wi>r(> luii;e plal- 
lers heaped full of sleamed potatoes with their jaci\(>ts on, 
|dcnl.\ of meal, and bread cut in huue slices. Tiiere was a 
plenty, sncli as il was. 1 couhi cat no potatoes nor iiu>at, but 
1 (lisi)osed of a lialf cnpfnl or more of sonp, slut'f(>d a piece of 
bread in my poclict and tiUMi W(Mit on deck aRain. 

While on lli(> snb,iecl of food, I will reluU' here what our 
meals consisted of, wliich may intcresi some iieople. l<''or 
breakfast lh(>re was oalineal and milk, ealli>d iiorridKe; nuir- 
inalad<>, inadi' of some kind of bum fruit Ihal was barely 
sweetened: oleoniar^;arine, called margarine, (axle urease i, 
whicli no one ate (>xcei)t lhos(> who wt>re not used to anything 
better; large, but rather coars(\ while, hoi biscuits; all lo 



159 

1)1' \v;iHli('(i down witli (■()|)ious (ir;iii,L;lits of liol cotTci', it' ()iu> 
chose. For (liuner tlioro was soup, iiuuit (or liim lish instead 
of moat, soinctiiiios), veKetahles, bread, coffee (or tea), and 
oiicc or twice a weels, puddiiiK. i<\)r supper — called tea — 
there was axle grease, (luarKarine), cold meat or fish, bread 
and lea. At eight i). m. a night-cap was served to those who 
cared for it. which consisted of biscuits and cheese. 

Some of tile passengers carried a private stock of ii(|iiois 
with them and also provisions; others were fox.y enough to 
til) tlu> cooks and had t id-bits handed to them on the sly. Wise 
lads, thos(>! If any one went hungry or thii'sty on board tlie 
Furnessia it was his or her own fault, for such as the grub 
was, there was plent.\ of it. 

1 remained on (l(ci< Saturday afternoon, our first day out, 
occMsionally observing the sea and sk.\ l)nl liiuling it more 
intei'esting to r(>gar(l the i)assengers, who I'ormed a m()tle.\ 
throng. Th(> majority of the passengers were young men and 
women who had gone t'oi'th on a holiday. They had followed 
various occupations on shore in the "States," had savcul a 
little money and now were i)utting it to a good use l)y visiting 
the scenes of their childhood. 

A great mau>' of the ])assengers were sitting in eonvru- 
ient or inconvenient places along the decks; others were 
standing in groups conversing, and not a few were walking 
briskly back and i'orth. These latter were mostly couples, 
mal(> and female. The strong roar of the wind down the 
capacious funnels, the might, \' onward I'lisli of the huge vessel, 
the bright sunlight and the blue skies, eonibiued to make a 
l)icture that, was interesting enough, but I e;i,n't sa.\' that li, 
made me hapi)y. 

There wen; a great many gii'ls aboard, ciiielly Irisii and 
Scotch, some of whom were quite pretty and did not lack for 
cavaliers. They seemed to be just as happy and chatty as 
their escorts and were evidently enjoying themselves. One 
chap especially attracted my attention and that of almost 
every one else. He was tall, had red, curly haii', wore no hat, was 
freckled, and was attired in a golf-suil witli thick stockings 



IGO 

that came up to his knees. He was a sturdily built chap with 
voluminous calves and deemed himself an Adonis. His limbs 
were sturdy but his manner was boisterous and intrusive, 
and he was a forceful sort of chap who would not be denied. 
The girls could not resist him evidently, for he had a new one 
in tow every little while. Whether some of the ladies did 
not like him and gave him the shake, or whether they all 
wanted a turn with him, I don't know, I'm sure. 

The afternoon was put in agreeably enough and when it 
grew dark, the wind freshened and the roar of it increased. 
All were shooed below by the ship's officers. I dreaded to go 
below but I had to. The steerage did not suit my esthetic 
taste at all. It was a vast compartment fitted up with berths 
two or three in a row, Chinaman fashion, one above the other. 
They were fastened to the deck and ceiling by thin iron 
rods. In each bunk was a mattress, pillow and blanket, but 
.there were no chairs, hooks or anything else to hang or de- 
posit one's clothes on. There was no privacy at all, so no one 
undressed or put on his "nightie." All went to bed in the 
dark or semi-darkness. Had the voyage lasted ten months 
instead of ten days the conditions would have been the same 
— one would have had to sleep in one's clothes. 

Talk about your life on the ocean wave! Where does the 
joy of it come in? Shoals of romance writers have depicted 
the glories of the sea and song writers have composed pretty 
ditties about it, but some of these chaps probably never saw 
the sea except from the shore. Some of these romantic 
fellows ought to take a trip in the steerage of an ocean liner 
and if that don't knock the romance out of them then I'll be 
surprised. The odors in the steerage are worse than those 
in a slaughter house and the conditions are not much better. 
There is very little light, less fresh air, and, as before said, 
no privacy whatever. A great many people when they go 
aboard a liner, go to their berths and not only eat there but 
sleep there and live there. They don't get up unless they 
have to, and then it is for a short period only. They try to 
get in as much sleep as they can so as to make the voyage 



ICl 

pass quickly. Like myself, they don't like the sea and dread 
it. Others, however, like the sea and are nearly always on 
deck. They have a good appetite and feel as gay and happy 
as a lark. 

To judge from the printed announcements issued by the 
steamship companies, the first and second-class passengers 
have all the comforts of home, aboard ship. They dine a la 
carte, have separate sleeping rooms, a smoking room, library, 
bathroom, swimming tanks, telephone, electric lights, and 
goodness knows what else. 

Deuced little did I sleep the first night aboard. Some 
fellows were noisy and boisterous, and chatted until the morn- 
ing, but no one gave them a hint to be quiet. Some one did 
talk to them in a haphazard way, but they took no heed. I 
got in a few cat naps; that was all. As soon as I saw daylight 
appear at the little, round port-holes, I went on deck and 
remained there until breakfast time. When the breakfast 
bell rang, I went down for rolls and coffee. My appetite was 
still rather delicate and so was my stomach. I hardly kno'.\ 
whether I was a-foot or on horse-back. The fetid odors down 
below and the lack of sleep had helped to daze me. 

The day was a beautiful one This was Sunday, our sec- 
ond day out, and by this time we were miles and miles from 
shore. The sun beamed down ardently upon us, but its rays 
were tempered by a breeze that was strong and exhilarating. 
The decks were crowded this fine morning, for every one 
but myself felt buoyant. 

We had a good dinner this day: soup, meat, vegetablco 
and pudding. I had no appetite to enjoy these things. All 1 
ate, or could eat, was bread and soup. The next day, Monday, 
a change came over the scene. Heavy, dark clouds began to 
pile up in the sky, and soon the sun was totally obscure], 
the wind arose, and gradually became stronger and stronger. 
Then the waves rose mountains high. 

These frightful looking billows caused the ship to plunge 
and roll, rendering a footing on decks well nigh impossible. 
The wind increased speedily to hurricane fury — so it seemed 



1G2 

to me — and the hollow masts groaned at a terrible rate; th?* 
cord stairways leading up the masts beat against them 
continually, and there was a shrieking and a groan- 
ing up aloft among the cordage, as if a tribe of Indians 
were on the warpath. A great many of the passengers went 
below, frightened, to be out of harm's way, but not I. I was 
game and wanted to die at the front; no skulking tor me, or 
hiding my head under the bed-clothes in time of danger. I 
wanted to see what was going on, and if I must die, I did 
not care to go below to die there like a rat in a trap. 

The might of the elements awed me and at the same time 
rendered me angry, for the more violent they became the 
angrier I got. Go to it, gol darn ye, says I to myself. You 
want to play hell, do you? Go on then, gol darn you, go on? 
Who's stopping you? 

It was a wild, wierd scene; enough to terrify auyoue. I 
heard a sailor say that this was only a catspaw. Some sailors 
will say anything. I sat down on the boiler grating, which 
was otherwise deserted, holding on to the bars for dear life, 
and receiving the genial warmth from the fire below. The 
vessel would sportively keel over to one side as far as she 
could without tipping over, then she would slowly arise to 
an even keel and flop over on the other side. She was 
having rare sport. Now she would point her nose to the sky 
and make a grab for something up there, but not getting it, 
down she would squash back into the water, like a tub. Gods, 
what waves those were! They must have been all of forty 
feet high! Mighty mean and spiteful they seemed to me, 
showing their white teeth, and hissing like a den of rattlers. 

I wonder who the chap was who wrote that touching 
lullaby: "Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep?" I'll bet he never 
saw the deep. Probably he was in a house-boat at the time, 
or out with his girl in a rowboat during a squall. Wish he 
was here on this rocking cradle, and see how he would like 
it! He would not sing very loud or bass-like, I am sure. 

To be sure, life on the ocean wave is a gay thing! It's 
lots of fun to be shot from one side of a ship to the other, to 



163 

be tossed up and down, to be spun around like a top and to 
be put through all kinds of maneuvers! Yes, it's lots of fun 
if you can see others doing it, but not if you are doing it 
yourself. 

As I sat there on the grating, thinking all kinds ot 
thoughts, one big spiteful billow made a bee-line for me, and 
after jumping clean over the side of the ship dropped down 
on me and nearly strangled me. What a deluge of green 
water it was! I thought thei'e never would be an end to it 
and I expected that my time had come; but I held on to the 
grating like grim death. I had sense enough for that. Had 
I let go, or been forced to let go, I would most likely have 
been hurled overboard and would have furnished a square 
meal for the crabs and fishes. A good deal of the water of 
the wave that inundated me jumped below into the boiler- 
room, but the most of it went over the side when the ship 
rolled. 

Captain Marryatt and Clark Russell were the best de- 
lineators of ocean life that England has ever produced, that is 
to say, according to my way of thinking. Captain Marryatt, 
who died many years ago, described the English naval service, 
the fighting ships, home and foreign ports, the seamen, offi- 
cers, etc., as they had never been described before. 

Clark Russell, who died only a year or two ago, wrote 
of matters pertaining to the sea also,. but in a different way. 
He had been in the merchant service and wrote of it. 

He entered the merchant service at the age of thirteen 
and followed the sea until twenty-one, when he took to sea- 
yarning. As a writer of sea stories no one excelled him, not 
even Captain Marryatt, for both were masters in their way. 
Strange to relate, Clark Russell was not an Englishman, but 
an American by birth. He was born in New York City in 
1844 and his father, Henry Russell, was a well-known song 
writer, composer of the song "Cheer Boys, Cheer," and others. 

Clark Russell depicted the sea as it is, with all of its hor- 
rors and all of its beauties. He loved the sea and wrote of it so 
minutelv and well that one can see it in all its moods. He 



164 

was a wonderful artist — a master. So well and truly did he 
depict the hardships and sufferings of English sailors, that 
the English Government took heed, and enacted laws which 
have ameliorated Jack's condition materially. Other English 
writers did the same, but Clark Russell was their master, the 
master of them all, the Shakespeare of the sea. His sea 
tales, such as the "Wreck of the Grosvenor," "The Frozen 
Pirate," "Life of Lord Nelson," "John Holdswoilh, Chief 
Mate," etc., are worth reading. 

It is hard to define wherein the power of a great artist 
lies but, I believe, it consists in fidelity to nature. Clark 
Russell used nature and wove around it such a web of 
romance that one cannot help but admire as one reads, know- 
ing all the time that it is but romance told in an artistic, 
inimitable way. Russell confines his descriptions to the 
English maritime service, and it is plain to be seen that his 
sympathies are wholly English. 

Will I be believed when I make the assertion that the 
United States has produced a sea writer as great as Clark 
Russell? This seems a bold assertion to make, but it is true. 
I refer to Dana, who wrote "Two Years Before the Mast." 
Dana was a Boston chap, a student at Harvard, who had studied 
so much that his eyesight and health had became impaired. 
He was advised by his physician to take a sea voyage, and 
although of well to do parents, he shipped before the mast on 
a bark called "The Pilgrim," which sailed from Boston for 
California. The voyage was a long and severe one, and Dana 
suffered many hardships, but he was game and overcame 
them all. 

His trials and tribulations on the Pacific Coast were 
many, too, for his vessel went a hide droghing, as it was 
called (hide gathering along the Coast), and Dana did his 
share of the nasty work, but he performed it manfully. Nor 
was this all that he did. He kept a diary or log, as sailors 
call it, and gave a faithful and realistic account of the voy- 
age after it was over. His descriptions of the harbors along 
the Pacific Coast from San Diego to San Francisco are so 



1G5 

accurate and realistic, that they are accepted as authentic 
today, though there have been changes. His descriptions of 
life aboard "Tlie Pilgrim," are clever and vivid. So great is 
this work of Dana's, that Clark Russell, who was born at 
about the time that Dana died, in his own books declares that 
it is the best, most painstaking and careful sea tale that ever 
was written. Praise from a master is praise indeed. 

Dana's book did for the American merchant service what 
Clark Russell's did for the English. It disclosed abuses 
which were remedied by law. The American sailor has much 
to thank Dana for. Though his lot may still be a hard one, it 
is not as bad as it was. American critics will still tell you 
that "the" American novel has not yet been written. Why? 
Dana's great book has been a classic for fifty years and more, 
not only in the United States, but in all other English-speak- 
ing countries. 

Were there to be any more waves like the one that soaked 
me? I wasn't at all certain and in fear that there might be 
and that I might meet with disaster, I concluded to go below. 
I thought it would be a good idea to go direct to my berth 
to dry my clothes and thaw them out, for I was shivering 
with the damp and the cold. I don't think there was another 
passenger on deck besides myself, for all were snugly housed 
below. I saw none at any rate. 

To get below, though, was not so easy, for the vessel 
was unsteady, and plunging and rolling frightfully. When I 
saw what I deemed a good opportunity, I made a rush for the 
companionway, the door of which was closed tight and housed 
in carefully to prevent the seas from descending below, and 
when I gained it after a deal of trouble, I opened the door at 
the right time and rushed below. 

What a miserable hole the steerage was just then' 
Lamps were lit to heighten the gloom, air and daylight were 
excluded, the woodwork was creaking and groaning at a sad 
rate, there was a rolling from side to side of articles that had 
not been properly secured, and almost everyone was in bed 



166 

with not a few very sick. Mr. Artist, if you were to paint 
a picture lilie this, do you think the public would like it? 

I went to bed in my damp clothes, for I wished to dry 
them that way. I slept off and on for two or three days and 
nights, eating nothing except a few ship's biscuits, and hating 
to get up. From the movements of the vessel I judged that 
the weather was still stormy, but the timbers were not creak- 
ing so much. I felt like going on deck but had not the ambi- 
tion to do so. It was difficult for me to arise. 

Finally, I concluded to make an effort, anyway, for I felt 
that I would be better off upstairs than below. My head felt 
so heavy, and what an effort it was to climb out of my berth. 
I managed to get on deck, somehow, and the marine picture 
that was presented to my gaze was still a wild one. The 
wind had gone down considerably, but the waves were still 
high and angry, rolling in every direction in dark masses, 
and curling in foamy crests; this, though, was the aftermath 
of the storm. Quite a few of the hardier passengers were on 
deck at this time, promenading, but ninety out of a hundred 
were below in bed; sick, probably. 

This was Thursday, and we had been out about six days. 
Thus we had four more days to put in. Mighty long, weari- 
some days and nights they were to look forward to. 

Bright and early on the tenth day we were to see land. 
I was out of my berth and on deck before sunrise that day, 
for I had not slept well. Soon after I gained the deck I saw 
a beautiful sunrise, and I was not sorry that I had arisen. 
The day promised to be a fair one; fleecy white clouds hung 
inert in the air, the skies were delightfully blue, and a stiff, 
steady breeze was blowing. We were nearing the coast of 
Europe by this time, but not a sign of land could I see. I did 
see a dim haze at the edge of the horizon straight ahead, 
which a passenger told me was land, but I believed that he 
didn't know what he was talking about. After breakfast I 
came up on deck again but no land was visible. 

At about 9 a. m. I saw some dark objects rising above the 
mists right ahead of us, and this evervone said was land. It 



1G7 

was land, it was land, thank the Lord! To say *hat I was 
happy won't express my feelings, for, like all the other pas- 
sengers, I grew enthusiastic and felt like dancing and singing. 
Quite a number of the Scotch passengers, male and female, 
formed groups and began to sing the songs of their native 
land, and the Irish passengers did the same. Many' a furtive 
tear of joy and happiness was wiped away I noticed. As for 
me, I felt like hugging some one. I realized how Columbus 
and his crew must have felt when they sighted land again 
after their eventful voyage to America. I'll bet a dollar to a 
doughnut though, that not a one of them felt happier than I 
did when I saw the shores of Europe. They could not have 
felt happier. 

And the land straight ahead of us that we were steering 
for, of all lands, was old Ireland, the Emerald Isle, the Ever 
Faithful Isle. I could scarcely realize it. What, that land 
Ireland, the country that I had read so much of, heard so 
much of, seen acted in plays, read of in stories and in poetry! 
Could it be possible? I had seen Irish men and Irish women 
by the million in my own country and was familiar with their 
ways and habits. This is where they all originally came from! 
Well, well, well! I threw up my cap feebly in joy and 
ecstasy. Some did worse fool tricks than that. 

The old Furnessia drew nearer and nearer to land, and 
now we could make out mountains plainly; tall, dark and 
frowning they were and timberless, but green on top with 
verdure of some sort. 

We sailed pretty close to the land and could see things 
plainly now. When we got up quite close, the vessel's prow 
was turned northward and then along the coast we skirted. 
The coast was irregular, being indented by bays, rivers 
and watercourses, causing gaps in the cliffs every few miles. 
The voyage now seemed like a holiday excursion, for the 
weather was beautiful and there was something to see be- 
sides sky and water. Everyone crowded to the rail or to 
other vantage points from whence to view the scenery. The 



1C8 

past ten days and nights of misery were forgotten — were 
gone clean out of mind now. 

We steamed along for an hour or two until we came to 
the extreme north of Ireland, where the vessel steamed into 
a narrow strait which separated a small island from the 
main land. This island was called Tory Isle. The strait 
was so narrow that we could see the land plainly at either 
side of us. What a romantic little island Tory Isle is. At 
one end of it, facing the sea, stands a cute and quaint light- 
house, and near the side we were passing, I saw a vegetable 
garden in which vegetables were growing. Those green 
growing plants, how they did entrance me! How I would 
have liked to take a run ashore to procure a few of them! 
Oh, give me the land; the sailors can have the sea; the land 
is Heaven; the sea is Hell. 

Tory Isle is not more than a few miles in extent and 
toward the latter end of it, as we drew near, we saw huge 
and jagged cliifs that were torn and riven into all kinds of 
shapes by the action of the elements. Surges had thundered 
against them for centuries, time had changed their color, and 
the winds and cold had hardened them. They seemed quaint, 
and in one place the water had eaten right through the rocks, 
forming an arch through which the ocean could be seen be- 
yond. 

Soon after dinner — -no one stayed below long — we entered 
a spacious bay and let go the anchor. We were off Moville, a 
town in the north of Ireland where the Irish passengers were 
to be set ashore, and from which they could travel to any 
part of Ireland by railroad or other conveyance. 

After our vessel had anchored we noticed a little steam- 
boat coming straight for us, and as she drew near we could 
see that she was a fair-sized tug of some sort. She soon 
made fast alongside and in a jiffy our passengers for Ireland, 
bag and baggage, were taken aboard. There were so many 
passengers and so much baggage put aboard the little vessel, 
finally, that there was scarcely room enough to swing a cat 
in; but who cared for that? The Irish passengers were 



1G9 

practically on Irish soil and their hearts overflowed. As the 
little vessel moved off from us, how they did cheer and shout 
and wave their handkerchiefs! The women were more ex- 
cited than the men; they were positively crazy with joy. 
Well, good bye and luck to you, neighbors, I hope you'll have 
a good time on the Old Sod. 

We hove up the anchor just as soon as possible and 
steered for Scotland, which was not far away. We went 
close to Cantyre and the isles of Arran and Bute off Scot- 
land, and the scenery that unfolded itself to our gaze was 
enchanting. Well-wooded lands we went by, that were wild 
and picturesque, and famous in song and story. In fact, an 
air of romance and beauty seemed to hover over all these 
places. What a history is theirs! They have seen kings, 
courtiers and nobles; peasants, Highland rovers, cattle 
lifters, braw lads and sonsie lasses. What have they not seen 
in all the stages of their life? Such scenes compensated us 
for all the hardships we had endured. After storm comes 
sunshine, usually. 

It was not long before the Furnessia was dropping her 
anchor once more, this time off Greenock, Scotland. Quickly 
a little tender came up to take us all ashore. We went aboard 
the tender and in a very few minutes were dumped ashore, 
bag and baggage, on the Princess Pier, Greenock, which is 
a sloping, stone-paved embankment like a Mississippi levee. 

As we set foot ashore cabmen stood about, bowing, 
scraping, and touching their hats, but saying never a word. 
They were giving us silent but decided hints to take a car- 
riage ride. Newsboys were there too, shouting their wares 
in language that I could not understand a word of. They 
were selling "Morning Nips" and "Evening Bladders," but 
these were not the names their newspapers bore. One little 
shaver came up to me and importuned me to buy a paper, 
but I could not make out what he was saying or selling. His 
language was Greek to me. I told the little fellow that I did 
not care to purchase just then, and when he heard me speak 
he stared. He shouted something to the other newsboys — 



170 

probably that a greenhorn had landed among them — and 
then there was a gathering around me, a shouting and a de- 
risive yelling. It embarassed me and rendered me angry as 
well. I felt like giving a few of those kids a kiclc in the 
pants for their freshness, but the more you fool with some 
kids the worse they get, so I let them alone and walked on 
unconcernedly, saying not another word. 

By this time all the passengers were wending their way 
into the custom house building which stood near by. In it 
customs officers were waiting to examine our baggage. 



CHAPTER XV. 
THE DEBUT IN SCOTLAND. 

The customs building is a very large one and is capable 
of containing a great number of people with their baggage, 
and I noticed a great many of the Furnessia's passengers 
standing beside their baggage, awaiting the appearance of the 
custom's officials. These were on hand promptly, moving 
from group to group, examining things and putting some sort 
of hyroglyphics on bags, portmanteaus, trunks, boxes, etc., 
as the articles might be. A goodlooking official in due course 
came up to me and asked where my baggage was. I told 
him I hadn't any. He regarded me in a sort of suspicious 
way, jerked his head upward then backward without saying 
a word. This I accepted as a hint to slope. Out of the cus- 
tomhouse I went, following some of the other passengers 
whose baggage had been examined, to a railroad depot ad- 
joining the customhouse. I did not realize that I was in a 
railroad depot until I looked around carefully. 

What a funny railroad station it was. On one side of it 
there was a brick wall with business advertisements on it, 
such as, "Bovril," "Oxo," etc., the meaning of which I did not 



171 

comprehend; and on the other side was a buffet, luggage 
rooms, ticket office, waiting rooms, etc., for the use and con- 
venience of the passengers. There were signs over these 
places designating what they were. 

Between the two walls which were far apart and roofed 
over, were a series of railroad tracks, and on one of these 
tracks stood a special train, made up to convey the Furnes- 
sia's passengers to Glasgow. Glasgow is about twenty-five 
miles distant from Greenock. 

I had a good look at the railroad train and then I stared 
and wondered. If it was not made up of a lot of oldfashioned 
stage coaches strung on wheels, you may smother me. What 
queer contriv.ances they were. Say, a fellow can see some 
mighty queer things when he has no gun with him. Stage 
coaches strung on wheels, eh! I saw no blind baggage, no 
bumpers, no rods, no brakebeams — nothing. How or where 
is a fellow to beat his way on such contrivances? It cannot 
be done, in any shape, form or manner. To say that I was 
disappointed will not express my feelings; I was totally dis- 
heartened, in despair. I now remembered what Billy had 
told me, and realized that he had told me the truth. The 
bumpers were nothing more than mere round disks of about 
the size of a dinner plate. I saw no brakebeams at the wheels 
underneath; not a sign of a blind baggage or other platform 
that I could ride on; no way of climbing on top of a coach, 
and n'er a rod. A fellow who can beat such a combination 
as that will have to render himself invisible. What a fool I 
was to leave my native land. 

So disappointed and down-hearted was I that I felt like 
returning home at once on the Furnessia, but I did not have 
the return passage price in my possession. I had about fif- 
teen dollars and that was all; the return fare being nearly 
double that. Well, I guess I am in for it, thinks I. My ticket 
from New York to Glasgow, though, was to include the train 
ride from Greenock to Glasgow, so I would not have to beat 
my way just yet, anyhow. That depot, too, got my goat. Never 
had I seen anything like it in all my travels, and they had 



172 

been many. Everything seemed so new and strange to me 
that I felt like a fish out of water, as if I had landed in some 
new world. Leisurely I walked along the train and had a look 
at the locomotive. Locomotive is too big a word for that 
little thing. There was a fair sized boiler mounted on strong, 
but slender wheels, and that was all. There was no cab for 
the engineer or fireman, only a two-foot space or so for them 
to stand on, which could be covered over with a tarpaulin in 
bad weather. Well, well, well! Mighty queer world this. 
That engine looked like a toy to me and I wondered where 
she would gain strength enough to move that long train of 
coaches. After all the passengers had had their baggage ex- 
amined in the customhouse, and had filed into the railroad 
station, everyone was allowed to enter thg cars. Every car 
was like a stagecoach, opening at the side; and, like it, could 
hold about eight passengers; four on a side, the seats being 
divided in the middle to hold two people in each division. 
Overhead, on both sides, were racks to hold shawls, parcels, 
valises and hand baggage generally. 

As soon as the coach doors were opened, I made u sneak 
for a seat next to a window, for I wanted to see as much of 
the scenery as I could. Seven other steerage bucks followed 
me into the coach, which was a second class one, I believe. 

In a few minutes all the coach doors were slammed shut 
by some one outside, some one on the platform blew a shrill 
blast from a tin whistle, the engine gave a rat-like squeak 
as if some one had given it a punch in the ribs, and then we 
were off. Slowly we started, but soon were going like a 
streak. Could that little contrivance of an engine go? Could 
she? Well, I should remark. She could go some; believe me! 
Did you ever see a tin kettle tied to a dog's tail and notice 
how, as the dog shot along the old kettle bounced, rattled and 
clattered? In somewhat similar fashion the coaches on our 
train bounced and clattei'-clatter, clattered, and when they 
struck a frog or crossing, gave an additional bounce. It was 
rare fun and lively riding. 



173 

We shot by farms, fields, woodlands, glades and meadows, 
the scenery seeming mighty foreign looking to me. Every- 
thing was so different from what I had been used to seeing. 
I felt strange and queer and wanted to go home. I noticed 
a river winding its way along and asked my neighbor in 
the coach if he could tell me what river it was. "The River 
Clyde," answered he. 

"The River Clyde," echoed I; "you mean the Clyde River, 
don't you? What is the idea of putting the cart before the 
horse like that?" This remark got my neighbor hot and he 
angrily said to me; "You're in a civilized country young man, 
where they talk English and not a bastard language as they 
do in the States. If you stay in this country long you'll learn 
something." 

His remarks got me off and I got pretty hot in the collar. 
"So, you don't think United States is good English, eh? 
Where will you find better? The educated and refined people 
in the United States talk as pure English as anyone. Of 
course we have our dialects in the north, south, east and 
west, and almost every American city has a vernacular of its 
own, but we can talk English all right if we want to. 

"You don't know what Oxford English is." 

"I don't, eh? Just as well as you do. What kind of a 
language do the London cockneys speak; the Brummagen 
chaps, the Lancashire folks, the Irish, the Scotch and all the 
others? Each has an accent of his own and lots of them 
can't understand each other. How does that argument suit 
you?" 

"Oh, you're talking through your hat; you don't know 
what you're saying. Better cork up!" 

"All right," said I, turning away without another word, 
What was the use arguing further with such a chap? It was 
the Clyde Valley we were now rolling through — beg pardon — • 
the Valley of the Clyde, I ought to say if I wish to express 
myself in Oxford English. When you are in Rome, I suppose 
it is well to do as the Romans do, if you can. Oxford English 
is too high-toned for me, though, so I shall continue to talk 



174 

just plain United States. Those who want Oxford English 
will find it in the Bible and other good books, but not here. 

It was now about three o'clock in the afternoon of an 
August day; there were Scottish clouds in the sky through 
which old Sol played peek-a-boo, and the scenery was diversi- 
fied, but by no means grand or sublime. The country was 
rather flat with mountains in the dim distance, and ship- 
yards along the river bank on both sides of the stream. The 
shipyards were enclosed by tall brick walls to keep out 
strangers, probably. If a ship is Clyde built, it seems to give 
her a good reputation. The Scotch are thorough and con- 
scientious workmen and what they do, they usually do hon- 
estly and well, and, cheaply, too. Maybe that is why so many 
vessels are built along the Clyde. 

Our train came gradually to a stop. 

What place is this? A sign on the railroad station says, 
"Paisley." Ah, this is the place where the Paisley shawls 
are made and where Coates and others have their big spool 
cotton factories. The streets seemed neat, clean and well 
paved with stones, and the town seemed a busy, yet pretty 
one. We only stopped at Paisley a second or two, then off 
we clattered again for Glasgow which was not more than 
four or five miles away. It was not very long before our 
train rolled into Glasgow and stopped, the engine puffing. We 
had landed in St. Enoch Station. The doors were invitingly 
opened for us and the cry was, "all out for Glasgow." 

When I stepped down and into the station, I stared in a 
bewildered and perplexed way, not knowing which way to 
turn, for the depot was a huge one. I followed the crowd, 
however. St. Enoch Station is an immense structure, and it 
is roofed over, paved, full of railroad tracks, booths, ticket 
offices, waiting rooms, restaurants, news stands, luggage 
(baggage) rooms, etc. It is as big as the Grand Central Sta- 
tion in New York. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

GLASGOW. 

I walked leisurely through the station, lollowed the 
crowd, and felt as if I were in a pipe dream. When I got out 
into the street and looked around me, I stared like a stuck 
pig. I didn't know whether I was on the earth, in heaven or 
in hades. Everything was so strange. The skies seemed un- 
familiar, the houses, the stores, the people, the vehicles, the 
dogs, the roadways, the sidewalks — everything seemed 
strange. My goodness gracious what u funny feeling came 
over me. I couldn't begin to tell you how funny f fell ; and 
how can I describe what I saw? Where shall I begin and 
where shall I end? The buildings were all of brick or stone, 
with Mansard roofs, and tile chimneys in a cluster on top. 
They were plain, strong and substantial but in no way hand- 
some or ornamental. On the ground floor of these buildings 
were stores, as a general thing, ;ind in the upper stories flats 
for dwelling purposes. 

The people, ah the people! They seemed a queer lot. 
The streets were alive with them. I never had the least idea 
there were so many Scotch folks alive. There were hundreds 
of them here; thousands of them; tens of thousands of them; 
all were moving about in a sedate and solemn way, and were 
attired in queer togs, and nearly all of them wore on their 
heads Tam o' Shanter caps, sizing me up as a greenhorn, no 
doubt, whilst others looked at me in a calm and stolid way. 

But look at those rigs, will you? Did you ever see the 
like of them? Here came along a little bit of a two-wheeled 
cart, dragged by a long-eared little donkey, and a sign on the 
cart informed one that it was a "Sweet Milk" cart. Well, 
may I be blowed! I kept my eyes rolling to see if a "Sour 



17G 

Milk" cart would come along, but I saw none. I saw rigs 
dragged along by Shetland ponies in which people rode, but 
they ought to have been ashamed of themselves to make such 
little beasts haul them about. Why, the ponies were scarcely 
knee high to a grasshopper, though they seemed rather sturdy 
and wore long manes and tails; but how they could pull such 
comparatively heavy rigs surprised me. I felt like telling 
the people in those rigs to get out and walk, and not mal^e a 
holy show of themselves. 

Wagons came along that looked like New Orleans floats, 
long, flat wagonbeds on wheels with no sides to them. These 
were dragged by big, heavy draft horses that seemed of a 
gentle, noble breed. Fine equipages rolled by, in which I 
noticed well attired ladies and gentlemen. The harness and trap- 
pings of the horses were of silver, gold or brass, and seemed 
substantial and costly. A coachman drove the horses and 
there was usually a footman behind. The stores riveted my 
attention considerably', but really I didn't know who or what 
to look at first, there was so many things to see. It was all 
like a continuous performance to me, but more so, for it was 
a continual and not a continuous performance. 

What queer names there were over the stores. 

There was MacFeely, MacPherson, MacQuiddy. Gregory, 
Ferguson, Alexander, Allison, Blair, Scrimgeour, Blackstock, 
Morrison, Stevenson, Colquhoun, Bartholomew. MacAlpin, 
Wilson, Wilkie, Duguid and others, which I made a note of 
in my notebook. 

The stores themselves were worth noticing. Their show 
windows were fitted up fine, and were well-stocked with goods 
that were well displayed, but I noticed that, as a rule, there 
were more goods in the windows than in the stores them- 
selves. Such stores were putting on a bold front, it seemed 
to me. 

A butcher-shop they called a "Fleshers"; a dry goods 
store they called a "Drapers"; a furnishing-goods store was 
called a "Haberdashery"; etc. Say, pardner, give me a good 
hard pinch, will you? I want to know whether 1 am alive or 



177 

dead. I sure have landed in another world. I am feeling 
mighty funny; kick me, will you? As to the contents of 
these stores. Oh! In a high-toned fish store on individual 
platters, I saw fish labeled salmon, turbot, hal^o, plaice, 
megrims, cod, herring, cockles, lemons, etc., and they all 
looked mighty good to me, notwithstanding the sti^ange 
names they bore. 

In a candy store I saw Edinburgh Rock, filshills, voice- 
pastiles, chocolate bouncers and frosty railroads, but no rail- 
road spikes or iron. Frosty nailrods, eh, and chocolate 
bouncers! Well, if I wasn't getting a pretty good run for 
my money you may call me anything you like. Frosty nail- 
rods? May I be blowed! In a butcher-shop I saw platters of 
Hamburg steak labeled "Mince," which came in several grades 
at diffierent prices. The cheapest kind was labled 4d, (eight 
cents), and probably came off the horns; the next grade was 
labeled Gd, (twelve cents), and may have come off the neck 
or tail; and the eight pence variety was good stuff, no doubt, 
that came from good parts of the animal. All the other meats 
in that shop was very fine. Immense steaks, chops, cuts of 
fine beef, mutton, pork and lamb; the choicest of hams and 
bacon, etc., did I see. The prices of the prime meats were 
high, I noticed; from a shilling a pound (twenty-five cents), 
upward. The meat was home-bred and stall fed. It all was fine- 
superfine. In bakery windows I noticed _ short-bread, oat- 
cake, and scones (pronounced, "scorns"), that were as big 
as an elephant's ear; they sold for two cents each; and a 
variety of strange bread, cakes, etc., the names of which 1 
could not take down for they were not labeled. The heedless 
bakers took it for granted no doubt, that everyone knew the 
name of their goods. 

The tobacco store windows, as a rule, were fitted up hne 
and tempting. Pipes and smokers' ai'ticles of all kinds and 
varieties were there, heaped up in profusion; there were queer 
looking cigars and all kinds of tobacco, too, but the prices of 
the tobacco seemed to me to be high. It was sold by the 
ounce, from eight cents an ounce upward, and was weighed out 



178 

in bulk, though sold in packages, also. There was Latakia 
tobacco on tap there, English Birds-eye, Baillie Nicol Jarvie, 
Tarn O'Shanter, Shag, Starboard Navy, Aromatic Mixture, 
and many other kinds, far too numerous to mention. 

The clothing stores made fine displays, some in ready 
made goods and others in cloths only. An elegant ready 
made suit of serviceable tweed could be had for eight dollars; 
or one would be made to order for ten dollars. As I viewed 
the latter, I was awfully tempted to go in and be fitted for a 
suit, but as I had only a few dollars in my possession I deemed 
it best to hold on to what I had, for the present. I had only 
five dollars in British money, anyway at the time, which I had 
exchanged for American money on the Furnessia, with the 
purser, before I went ashore. 

The jewelry stores interested me as much as any of the 
other stores, and as I regarded the articles of vertu in them 
I thought what a fine thing it is to be well-to-do, so that one 
can purchase what one fancies. Here was jewelry that was 
distinctively Scottish in design: and it was good to look at. 
It revealed to me the fact that the Scottish taste is an excel- 
lent one, for not only is it substantial and sensible, but ex- 
quisite as well. It is as exquisite as the French, with a char- 
acteristic of its own, which is wholly and exclusively Scottish. 
That is what I thought as I gazed, though T cannot convey 
just what I mean. The reader will have to use his imagina- 
tion to gather my meaning. The jewelry was distinctively 
Scottish in make and design and very tasteful — that is all I 
can say. 

The grocery stores were well stocked, both inside and 
outside — crammed I may say — with goods. There were jellies, 
jams and marmalades done up in packages that were unfa- 
miliar to me; Danish butter from Denmark, which is about as 
good an article of its kind as can be had; English cheese; 
Irish duck eggs, hams and bacon, which are about the best 
that can be had anywhere, the world over; many kinds of 
farinaceous foods, provisions, vegetables, etc. Everything 
displayed had a distinctively European aspect. 



179 

No one can gain a proper idea of what a foreign country 
is like unless he goes there. There is something in a foreign 
atmosphere even, that must be felt to be properly understood 
and appreciated. A graphic writer can convey an idea to you, 
but he cannot put the real thing before you at all. You must 
go and see for yourself, and feel as well. 

While standing in front of a grocery store window deeply 
absorbed in observing the goods, a man stepped up to me and 
lightly and lovingly flicked off some dirt or dust from the 
back of my coat. I had cleaned my coat just before I came off 
the ship, so had no idea it was dirty. I took the coat off and 
examined it, but I could see nothing amiss with it. The man 
who had been so kind and considerate was a strong and well 
built man of about middle height. He had dark eyes, a dark 
moustache, and was quite handsome. He was not at all well 
dressed, though, for his peajacket was turning color, and his 
pants and vest were shabby. On his head was perched a cute 
little Glengarry cap with a cloth button on top of it. I said 
to the man, "thank you, sir; you are very kind." 

"Oh, it iss nothing; a wee bit dirt, just; she wull take it 
off." 

What kind of talk was this? I stared. She will take it 
off? Who is she? The stranger came up close to me and 
from him oozed a strong odor of whiskey. He remarked to 
me, "she would like to hev ta penny. She is droothy." 

Aha! Sits the wind in that quarter? thinks I; this chap 
is trying to work me for a drink. Kind of nervy cuss. I asked 
him where he came from. He told me he carne from Colonsay; 
that he was "Heelan"; that "ta feeshin was vera bad ta noo"; 
that he had come to Glesgie to find work. This and much 
more did he tell me in "Heelan" Scotch which I cannot prop- 
erly reproduce here, for it isn't my own language. I doubted 
the chap's statements. I think he was a bum, a sot, too lazy 
to work. His plan to get a drink was a good one, but I had 
seen it and all other kinds of similar games worked in my 
own country before. A penny was not much, though, so I 



180 

gave him one, whereupon he touched his cap, said "ta-ta," 
and vanished. 

Well, may I be blowed, thinlvs I; they're up to snuff in 
this countrj', sure. 

I came upon some very busy tlioroughfares. -There was 
Jamaica street, Argyle street, the Trongate, Gallowgate street, 
and others, all of which were full of stores, people, vehicles 
and traffic. Argyle street impressed me as being the main 
street, for it was lined on both sides with high class stores 
in which wealthy people did their shopping. The same may 
be said of Sauchiehall street. Fine equipages rolled along 
Argyle street in which sat aristocratic looking ladies and gen- 
tlemen, the gentlemen seeming grave and handsome and the 
ladies slight, blonde and pretty. 

Trams and busses rolled by, which were double-deckers, 
for they had seats below in a glass enclosed compartment, 
and a spiral stairway at the rear leading up to an upper deck 
that was unenclosed, and which contained seats for passen- 
gers where they could smoke and view the scenery as the 
vehicle rolled on. While walking along Jamaica street I saw 
a young lady sitting on the sidewalk and a female companion 
standing alongside of her, urging her to get up. I stepped 
up" to see what the matter was, though no one else seemed 
to take the least notice of the two, and I asked the young 
lady who was standing up if I could be of any assistance. 
She either did not understand what I said to her or she did 
not wish to, for she made no reply. The lassie sitting on the 
sidewalk glared at me and then I perceived that she was as 
full as a goat. She had been imbibing too much hot Scotch. 

"Can I be of any assistance?" I again asked the young 
woman who was standing" guard. She turned on me scorn- 
fully and replied: "Did yer nevah see ah larsie fou?" (did 
you never see a lassie full?) 

No, I never saw one as full as that, thought I, as I walked 
away without another word. Tough nuts in this town, both 
men and women, thinks I. 



181 

A little later as 1 was walking- along Argyle street, two 
handsomely dressed young ladies, who sized me up as a 
stranger, stepped up to me, addressed me and began a con- 
versation with me. I asked them if they had not mistaken 
me for some one else, but they only smiled. One of the 
ladies was Scotch and the other French, and it was the Scotch 
lady who did all the talking, for possibly the French one was 
not able to understand or speak English very well. 

Both were decidedly pretty and seemed refined in man- 
ner and speech, and were tastefully dressed. They seemed 
to me to be of high rank, duchesses maybe, but I was quickly 
undeceived. Like a flash the notion came to me that they 
were street walkers, and so it proved. 

The Scottish girl had not delivered herself of more than 
a sentence or two when she asked me if I would like to escort 
them home. I replied that I could not do so just then, for 
the reason that I was on my way to keep an appointment. 
She did not* believe me and importuned me to go with them, 
but I replied that I could not, that I was sorry I had to de- 
cline, but that I hoped I would have the pleasure at some 
other time. 

Excuses on my part were of no avail though. Both in- 
sisted on me going with them and they assured me of a great 
many things that I cannot repeat here, at least the Scotch 
girl did. Then she coaxed and begged me and evidently 
would not accept "no" for an answer. I became impatient 
finally, told the ladies that I would have to go and begged 
them to excuse me. 

The Scotch girl asked me for a crown ($1.25), which I 
politely but firmly refused. 

"Give us half a crown then," asked she. I firmly but 
politely refused again. 

"Will you give us the price of the drinks, then?" 

This disgusted me and I walked off. The two girls stood 
stock still, gazed at me and made uncomplimentary remarks 
about me. I walked on hurriedly, rather ashamed. Now, 



182 

what do you think of all this? These are the facts; make 
your own comment. 

I was getting hungry by this time, for my meals on board 
the ship this day had been light ones. Accordingly, I con- 
cluded to find a restaurant of some kind. I walked to 
Jamaica street and at the end of that street came upon a 
lofty, stone paved embankment that extended along the River 
Clyde. This embankment is a mile or more in length and is 
called the Broomielaw. Along it extend wharves and ships, 
ship basins, landing places and the like, and it is in fact the 
main embarcadero of Glasgow, although there are some 
wharves and ships on the other side of the river. 

Along the Broomielaw nearly all the wharves are en- 
closed, though the landing places of the excursion steamers 
are not. Excursion steamers land here that will take one 
to the Crinan Canal, to Oban, Ballachulish, Fort William, 
Fort Augustus, Inverness, Caladonian Canal, Tobermory, 
Mallaig, Kyle of Lochhalsh, Portree, Stornoway, Mull, Skye, 
Gairlock, Ullapool, Lochinver. The Hebrides and the West 
Highlands. One line of steamers will take passengers to any 
of these places, for an advertisement painted on the wall of 
this company's wharf proclaims the fact. 

There are other excursion boats that will take one for a 
small consideration to Rothesay, a watering place on the Isle 
of Bute. This is a delightful sail down the Clyde, and 
Rothesay itself is a charming resort. Excursion boats land 
there from all pai'ts of Scotland. I've been there and 1 know. 

In fact, from the Broomielaw one can take boat for any 
part of Scotland that can be reached by water, or for any 
part of the habitable globe, for that matter, as Glasgow is 
the greatest port in Scotland. 

Along the wharves and in the stream one can see steamers 
that ply to many ports, to Dutch, French, Spanish, German, 
Italian, Mediterranean, American, African, Australian and 
others; and it is easy to see the ships, as the river is not 
wide. The Clyde in fact is not much of a river, for it is 
navigable only about twenty-five miles or so, from Greenock 



183 

to Glasgow. It is the mainstay of Glasgow, though. Without 
it, the importance of Glasgow would soon wane. 

The river, about a hundred years ago, was shallow, but it 
has been dredged to a depth sufficient to permit^ of ocean 
liners docking there. A little way above the Broomielaw, 
opposite the Glasgow Common, or Green, the river is hardly 
more than a brook, and its waters are of the color of choco- 
late, which means mud. At the Broomielaw, its busiest part, 
the river is hardly more than a quarter of a mile wide. Many 
handsome and substantial bridges span the river and the em- 
bankments form fine promenades. 

The vessels interested me a great deal. The majority 
of them were long, low, black and rakish, with slanting fun- 
nels, and made me think of pirate crafts that I had read of 
in stories. Maybe some of them were smugglers or pirates; 
who knows? 

Some cattle were being unloaded from a black, piratical 
looking craft and I stopped to watch operations. The cattle 
had just come down from the north country and were lanky 
and black, and did not seem to want to walk the plank to go 
ashore. Some Highland bullwhackers stook by and prodded 
them with canes, and yelled to them in "heelan" Scotch, 
which maybe the cattle could understand, but I could not. I 
believe the Heelan men did some cussing, too, at some of the 
steers that bucked and did not want to go ashore, for 
probably they were used to quieter scenes and felt queer. 
The poor creatures had to walk the plank, though. They 
would see "Lochaber no more." Alas! 

Aloiig the Broomielaw where it leads past the docks, 
there is a narrow sidewalk, a broad driveway in the middle 
of the street, and a sidewalk on the other side of the street 
along which are ranged ship outfitting shops, stores, restau- 
rants, lodginghouses, hotels and the like. It is an animated 
thoroughfare, this Broomielaw, and it is usually full of people, 
"cairts," (carts), carriages and traffic. 



CHAPTER XVII. 
GETTING A SQUARE MEAL. 

I walked along the Broomielaw very slowly, taking in 
the various unwonted sights and observing the people. I saw 
and heard all kinds of people, Scandinavians, Dutch, English, 
Scotch and even an occasional negro, but a negro whom I 
heard talk, spoke with an accent that was anything bvrt 
American. I wondered what nationality he was. 

As I walked along I kept an eye peeled for a restaurant. 
I went by several of them and looked in. They were all 
pretty well crowded just then for it was about the time for 
the evening meal and I hesitated about going in, as I did not 
know what to order, how to order or how to comport myself. 
I would make myself conspicuous, I feared. I continued to 
walk on, therefore and after walking a great many blocks, 
came upon a tall building which stood on the corner of a 
street opposite a land-locked basin. On the ground floor of 
this building was a large restaurant that had double windows 
and a vast interior. On the sidewalk of the restaurant, in 
very large letters, was painted the following bill of fare: 

Workingman's Restaurant. 

Tea 2 cents 

Coffee 2 cents 

Porridge and Milk 2 cents 

Sandwiches 2 and 4 cents 

Eggs 2 cents 

Ham and Eggs 16 cents 

Broth 2 cents 

Pea Soup 2 cents 

Potato Soup 2 cents 

Beefsteak Pudding 4 cents 

Sausage 2 cents 



185 

Collops 4 and C cents 

Dessert Pudding 2 cents 

Fish Supper 8 and 12 cents 

Tripe Supper 8 and 12 cents 

The hill of fare looked good to me, as far is 1 could 
understand it, and the prices seemed cheap, too cheap to be 
good. 

What kind of a pudding is a beefsteak pudding? And 
for the land's sake what are collops? I thought the painter 
must have made a mistake and forgotten to put the letter 
"S" before the word collops. I knew what scallops were but 
not collops. And, then, what kind of a supper is a Fish Sup- 
per or a Tripe Supper?" 

I walked up to the show windows and looked into them. 
In the right hand window — the entrance door was between 
the two windows — I noticed platters on which were disposed 
huge joints of well cooked mutton, a big round of beef, hog 
meat done up in various shapes, pigs' feet, meat pies, and 
divers other dainties, all of which looked mighty good to me. 
My teeth began to water and a drop trickled down my chin. 
In the other window were bakery goods of all kinds, con- 
spicuous among which were scones, and one of '.vhich was 
enough for a square meal. They were round, large and high. 
Let me say right here that I ate a whole scone several days 
afterward, and that it went through me like a dose of salts, 
for there was too much soda in it. 

As I stood there absoi-bed in the window displays and 
sort of cogitating what to go in and order, a young girl of 
about eighteen came up to me, looked into my face and said: 
"Who air ye?" I was flabbergasted for a moment, and asked 
her if she wasn't mistaken in the person, but when she heard 
me speak she only chuckled softly. Evidently my accent to 
her was funny. The girl was quite pretty, and had Scottish 
features and a slight form; around the upper part of her body 
there lay a Paisley shawl which she kept opening and shut- 
ting in front of her bosom as she spoke to me. 



186 

I assured her that I was in good health, but asked her 
again if she were not mistaken in the person she was address- 
ing. 

To this she vouchsafed no reply, but asked: "Where do 
you come from the noo?" 

"The "noo?" What does she mean by that. Like a flash 
the inspiration came to me that the "noo" meant "new." 
so I answered her that I had just landed from New York. 

"Och eye," sort of sighed she; "ye're a Yankee then?" 

Oh, no, miss; I'm a Westerner. I come from the western 
part of the United States.' 

Evidently she did not understand what I was driving at, 
for in a sort of absent-minded way she murmured twice, "ooh 
eye! ooh eye! Hoo lang will ye be for stayin" in Glesgie?" 

"I don't know, miss; if I find a good job here I'll remain 
some time." 

"Och, yer a braw laddie." volunteered she. "I hope we'll 
become well acquaint." 

Now this made me feel pretty good. The lissie was 
evidentaly kind of stuck on me and I sort of fancied her, too. 
She was just my style, sweet and sonsie! (I hope Scotch 
readers will please excuse my bad Scotch). I informed tbe 
lassie — that is what they call girls in Scotland — that I was 
just about to go in to get something to eat and asked her if 
she would join me. 

She thanked me and said "no, not the noo, just," but she 
assured me that she would see me again. I bade her au 
revoir and entered the restaurant. 

The main dining room was a large apartment containing 
tables that were pretty well occupied by people just then, 
who were at supper, but there were some private cabinets 
in the place, in which one could be served if one chose. I 
preferred to go into one of the cabinets. The cabinet 1 went 
into had a sliding wooden door to it, which could be closed; 
and it was a small compartment, just about large enough to 
contain a bare, wooden table and a bench at either side of 
the table. There was hardly room enough to turn around in. 



187 

After sitting in this cabinet a few moments a waitress came 
in and asl^ed me what I would have. I informed her that a 
plate of pea soup, some mutton, some potatoes and bread and 
butter would about hit me right. When the girl heard my 
accent she burst out laughing, but her accent got me a grin- 
ning, as w'ell. We both were having lots of fun. 

While discussing the pea soup, which was first class, a 
young lady entered whom I had seen before. It was the 
lassie who had braced me outside the restaurant and who 
had declined to sup with me. Well, if I wasn't astonished! 
I greeted her courteously, and she came right in and seated 
herself opposite me at the table. Wlien the waitress came 
in to serve me with the meat she saw the lassie there and 
sniffed in a scornful sort of way. She evidently didn't think 
much of me; I could plainly see. 

The lassie and I had quite a chat and I requested her to 
shut the door but she would not do so. I asked her to order 
something to eat for herself, but she declined, spying that 
she was not hungry. After I had dined, or supped — call it 
what you will — we left the restaurant, the lassie and I, and 
I had a further chat with her on the sidewalk. 

She told me that she was not averse to taking "a wee 
drappie"' with me, and that she knew of a nice, snug place 
where we could be accommodated. 

I begged her to excuse me, telling her that I was not a 
drinking man. The fact is, I was leery of her. I was a 
stranger in a strange land, unaccustomed to its ways, law 
or habits, and proposed to go slow. The lassie looked good 
enough to me, but I did not know w-ho she was or anything 
about her. Under these circumstances I concluded to shake 
her. 

I informed the lassie that I wished to look for a furnished 
room before it got too dark, and begged her to excuse me. 
W^ith that I left her, tipping my hat and saying "au revoir." 



CHAPTER XVIII. 
LOOKING FOR A FURNISHED ROOM. 

The summer nights are pretty long in Scotland, for 
Scotland is quite far north, not so very far from the land of 
the midnight sun; and night does not descend until about 
nine or ten o'clock. It was now only about seven o'clock, so 
that I would still have a few hours of daylight in which to 
look around for a furnished room. It was my intention to 
remain in Glasgow one week only, and to see as much of the 
city as I could during that period; afterward I would hie to 
other scenes, for I wished to see all of Scotland, if I could, 
and of Ireland as well. 

While wandering along the Broomielaw I noticed plenty 
of hotels and several lodging houses along that thoroughfare, 
but they did not appeal to me, for I thought they would be 
too noisy. I preferred to room in a private house where 
everything is peaceful, quiet and orderly. A long experience 
in such matters has taught me that a private house for sleep- 
ing purposes is the best. The money you pay for a room 
helps out the family, too, for it helps to pay the rent. 

Accordingly, I sauntered through Buchanan, Argyle, 
Jamaica and other streets once more, but I saw tio "room 
to let" signs on the houses there. I asked a passerby if there 
were furnished rooms to let in that locality. He told me 
there were plenty of them, but that they were rather high 
priced, for the reason that this was the business section of 
the city, but that I would find more desirable quarters in the 
residence sections. He informed me that if I wished to rent 
a fairly good room at a reasonable price, he would suggest 
that I try the Gorbals' district, across the river. People 
having rooms to let, he said, usually live in the upper stories 



189 

or the buildings, in flats, and hang their room-to-let signs in 
or outside of their windows. I thanked him heartily, for all 
this was useful information and continued in my quest for a 
room. 

I saw a room-to-let sign in a third story window on 
Jamaica street, and concluded to take a chance there to see 
what would come of it. The building was of stone and a 
doorless hallway that led to the upper apartments had stone 
walls, a stone ceiling and was paved with stone. It was 
called a close. It led to the rear of the building and was quite 
gloomy. I hesitated Avhether or not to traverse it; but what 
was the use of being afraid of bugaboos? 

I mustered up courage and slowly walked through the 
hallway, at the rear of which I discovered a corkscrew-like 
iron railed stairway that wound its way upward. The stair- 
way was of stone, too. Everything is built to last in Scot- 
land, apparently, thinks I. 

When I came to the third story— it was no easy climb I 
assure you — I saw a heavy wooden door upon wiiich there 
was a brass knocker set against a brass plate. I knocked 
at the door, whereupon an elderly lady opened it a few inches 
and asked me what my business might be. 

I informed her that I was looking for a furnished room. 

As soon as she heard me spealv, she asked: "Ye're a 
Yankee, ain't ye?" 

I assured her that I was a westerner, which she did not 
seem to understand, for she exclaimed in an aimless sort of 
way, "ooh-eye! ooh-eye!" 

"What wall ye be doin' in Glesgie?" enquired the lady. 

"Going to find a job of some kind," I answered. 

"What's yer occupation?" asked the lady. 

"Oh, I work at anything." 

"Ach, then, yer a jock of all trades and maister o' none," 
declared the lady. 

"That's about the size of it," answered I. 

"Hoo mich will ye be wantin' to pay for thae room?" 



190 

Now, that was a poser! I supposed that things in Scot- 
land would be about half as dear as in the United States, so 
that a room that cost me about two dollars per week at home 
ought to cost me about one dollar per week here. I said to 
the old lady that I thought a dollar a week would be a fair 
price for a room. The old lady did not know how much a 
dollar was so I told her, four shillings. 

"Awa wi ye!" exclaimed the dame, mad as blazes; "what 
de ye tak' this hoos for; a tramp's lodgin' place? Awa wi 
ye!" And with this she slammed the door in my face. 

Now, what do you think of that? I didn't know what to 
think of it. I was so flabbergasted for a while that you 
could have knocked me down with a feather. I picked my 
way carefully down the spiral stairway cussing the old 
woman to beat the band. She did not have much manners, 
I thought. 

I concluded to take in the Gorbals district across the 
Clyde, to see what luck I would have over there in renting a 
room. I crossed the Jamaica street bridge and felt my heart 
glow with pleasure as I looked at the strange and unfamiliai, 
yet pleasing scenery. The water, ships and boats of many 
varieties interested me considerably as did the people and 
vehicles on the bridge. To me Scotland seemed a "bonnie" 
country and I liked it well. I fancied its people, too, for they 
seemed agreeable and sociable, and not at all cold or distant. 
They would speak to you and treat you civilly. 

There were gulls and other birds flying about over and 
near the Clyde which were as strange to me as the people, 
for they were of a species wholly different from what I had 
been used to seeing. In a foreign country nothing is like 
what it is at home. 

After crossing the bridge I gained the Goi'bals' district 
which is well built up and full of people. At one time Gor- 
bals was a mere village, lying opposite Glasgow on the Clyde, 
but as the city expanded and increased in population, it 
absorbed many an outlying village so that today Glasgow 
contains between 900,000 and a million of people, and is one 



191 

of the few Scottish cities that is going forward rather than 
backward in population. Emigration is depopulating many 
a town, country district, city and village in Scotland today. 

The Gorbals' district is full of densely populated streets 
and not a few of them are inhabited by Hebrews, who con- 
duct stores and live there. There are several theatres in the 
district, a branch of the public library, etc. 

I entered a stone hallway in this district, which led up to 
a second story flat where there was a room to let. This 
building, too, had a spiral stairway at the rear of the close, 
built solidly of stone. 

When I rapped at the door, an engaging young lady an- 
swered the summons and courteously invited me to step in- 
side. I did so and we had a chat. 

She informed me that her flat was occupied by herself 
and sister, but that they had a spare room which was rented 
permanently to an actor who was absent at the present time, 
making a tour of the provinces; she could not tell just when 
he would be back, but I could have the room, if I wished, with 
the understanding that when the actor returned I would share 
the room with him and sleep with him. As it was not a 
female actor, I said to myself, nay. 

For various reasons I did not think well of this proposi- 
tion, and thanking the lady warmly for her courtesy I with- 
drew. The next place I came to was on the top story of a 
house, the flat of which was occupied by a middle-aged lady. 
She showed me the furnished room she wished to rent, in 
which there was a table and a few chairs, but nothing else. 
I informed the lady that I was looking for a bedroom, and 
not a diningroom. Thereupon she opened a closet in the rear 
of the room in which there was a bunk. Chinaman style. 

Holy mackerel! What did the lady take me for; a China- 
man? Well, I'm no Chinaman and I want a good, big, wide 
bed to sleep in, in which there is plenty of room to kick. I 
did not engage the Chinaman bunk, needless to say. 

I called at several other places without any result, until 
finally I came to a three story building where there was a 



192 

room that suited my taste and purse exactly. This flat was 
occupied by an aged man and his daughter, who had a nice 
large room which contained a quaint and old-fashioned mantel 
piece, a roomy bed, a large table, two chairs, a washstand. 
dresser, and two windows that afforded plenty of light, which 
were draped with curtains. Everything in the room was neat 
and clean, and the window afforded a romantic view of back 
yards, and the backs of houses which fronted on another 
street. 

The daughter of the house was about thirty years of age 
and was very kind and amiable, but not pretty. The father, 
who was nearly eighty years of age, was not in the best of 
health, and was crusty. Although his daughter tended and 
cared for him as a mother would her babe, she received no 
thanks from him and he gave her not even a kind word in 
return, but accepted all her attentions as a matter of course. 
He was Irish, and his wife, who had died, was Scotch; thus, 
the daughter was Irish-Scotch. 

Because the young lady was courteous to me, her father 
began to suspect that there was an intrigue between us and 
one morning when the young lady had gone forth on an 
errand he rushed into my room, looked into the closet, under 
the bed, and everywhere else to see if his daughter were 
hidden there. I said not a word, but I was indignant. Had 
he not been so old I would have given him a piece of my 
mind. I guess he was childish. 

I paid a dollar a week for this cosy room and liked it 
well. After I had rented it, paid in advance for it and been 
left alone by my landlady, I disrobed and took a wash from 
head to foot, to get ten day's ship-grime off from me. Oh, 
how delicious it felt to get my clothes off once more and to 
be clean and glowing from head to foot. Afterward I went 
to bed. I woke the next morning feeling bright and gay as 
a lark. 



CHAPTER XIX. 
DOING GLASGOW. 

At about six o'clock in the morning I left the house with 
the intention of putting in a big day of sightseeing. 1 crossed 
over to the Broomielaw, where I went into a Municipal 
restaurant and had a large cup of excellent coffee for two 
cents (a British penny) and a couple of large slices of close- 
grained homemade bread with butter for two cents more. 
Everything that was served was first class and could not have 
been better. Thus, for four cents I had had a very satis- 
factory meal. The Municipal restaurants in Glasgow are 
maintained by the Municipality of that city, as are nearly all 
of the public utilities, and they are well maintained, too. 

All the Glasgow Municipal restaurants are fitted up neatly 
and handsomely with marble floors, marble counters, shiny 
metal work, etc. The food served is excellent and cheap. 
Porridge, eggs, and many other things are on the bill of fare, 
and if I were a millionaire I would not hesitate to patronize 
these restaurants. There is no style about them, yet every- 
thing is neat, clean and orderly. 

After emerging from the restaurant I bought a Glasgow 
morning paper and looked it over. It was a large sheet con- 
taining a dozen or more long, wide pages, some of which were 
full of news articles and some of advertisements. I noticed 
that the news articles were wr'itten in an able, scholarly way 
and were devoid of sensationalism. There were no scare 
heads to startle or affright one; no long and salacious ac- 
counts of murders or scandals^nothing in fact to shock the 
sensitive mind. It contained, however, a page composed of 
"Answers and Queries;" "Master and Man;" "Guardian and 
Ward;" "Husband and Wife," and other things that were 



194 

worth knowing; — useful hints, in fact. There were also many 
advertisements and display and want ads, pertaining to all 
kinds of matters. One advertisement especially rivited my 
attention. It was an announcement that there was to be a 
public dance in the Green (or Common) that afternoon, given 
by the Govan Pipers. As it was to be a free show I concluded 
to take it in. It was now early morning however, so I would 
have lots of time to see the city before attending the show. 

I wandered along the Broomielaw, up past where Paddy's 
Market is held on Saturday afternoons, along the Clyde Em- 
bankment, and then I went into the fish market which I in- 
spected. Afterward, I walked toward the Green. I did not go 
into the Green just then, but turned off toward a maze of old- 
fashioned streets that led toward the Cathedral, which, 1 had 
been informed, is the most ancient structure in Glasgow. 

Glasgow is a modern city in all respects and is up-to-date. 
Although it was settled more than a thousand years ago, it 
has kept up with the march of improvements, and is neither 
more nor less than a business city, given up wholly to trade 
and commerce. Soon as a building becomes too old and di- 
lapidated, it is torn down to be replaced by a substantial up- 
to-date structure. Thus, one will not find an ancient, historic 
or romantic building in Glasgow, for trade and not sentiment 
rules there. 

I came upon the old cathedral which has a long history 
of its own that lives in song and story. I observed that it 
was a vast structure, enclosed in spacious grounds, and is 
built of stone. It is almost black from age and weather. The 
structure is as plain as a barn, is devoid of ornamentation, and 
is "just" substantial. The only ornamentations I noticed 
about it were flying buttresses which are more useful than 
ornamental. Andrew Fairservice in one of Sir Walter Scott's 
novels, when speaking of this cathedral, said that there are 
"no whim-whams or whigmaleeries about it," which trans- 
lated into pure United States, means that there is no gim- 
crackerv about it. 



195 

Near the cathedral is situated the Necropolis, an ancient 
burial ground, which is a very pretty spot. It is a par];-like 
domain situated right in the heart of the city, enclosing hill 
and valley. Along its winding walks in the valleys are ser- 
pentine paths bordered by trees, bushes and flowers. Winding 
its way upward to the summit of a lofty hill is a pathway 
along which are grave-plots, monuments, trees, plants and 
flowers. At the very summit of the lofty hill, which com- 
mands a fine view of the city, stands an elaborate monument 
erected to the memory of John Knox, the Reformer. But the 
Reformer is not buried there. He is buried, I believe, in Ed- 
inburgh. 

These two are about the only show-place.s in Glasgow o£ 
any antiquity, and after I had seen them I retraced my foot- 
steps toward home, for as my room was several miles distant 
from where I now was, it would be pretty near noon before I 
reached it. 

There was much to see in the strange and unfamiliar 
streets that I traversed, and to me the whole city seemed an 
oddity and a curiosity. 



CHAPTER XX. 
DANCING IN THE GREEN. 

After a good and substantial dinner I sallied forth that 
afternoon to witness the dancing in the Gi'een. 

The Glasgow Common, or Green, lies along the Clyde at 
its upper part, and is a public park and playground. It is two 
or three miles long, I should judge, and about a mile wide, 
and contains but few trees, bushes or flowers. There are no 
drives, but walks only. In the Green are swings and gymnas- 
tic apparatus for children, tennis grounds, a horticultural 
pavilion, a humane society building (hospital) near the river, 
rowboats, a music stand, and other things for public amuse- 
ment or use. There are plenty of benches placed here and 
there, where the weary may sit down to rest, and away be- 
yond the confines of the park looking toward the right hand 
as one enters, extend the streets and houses of the city. On 
the other side is the Clyde. 

It was about two o'clock when I entered the Green, and 
as the dancing would not begin until an hour or so later, I had 
plenty of time on my hands. I sat down on a bench a little 
way in from the entrance of the park and looked about me. 

Some distance away on another bench sat a lad and a 
lassie who were making love in the Scottish fashion. They 
sat on the bench close together gazing at vacancy and saying 
not a word, but evidently they were doing a powerful lot of 
thinking. Suddenly and without the least warning the lad 
would throw his arm around the lassie's waist, hug her to him 
tightly for a moment or so, and then let go. 

Did you ever observe a calf suckle its mother? It makes 
a grab for the teat, jerks a few mouthfuls, then suddenly lets 
go and repeats the performance every few moments. Well, 



197 

that was about the way this couple made love. I was wishing 
as I watched their performance that my New Yorlv girl, Hen- 
rietta, had been there to give this lad and lassie a few lessons 
in the art of love-making. Henrietta could have done it, all 
right. 

This calf fashion seemed to me to be a queer way. I in- 
finitely preferred the New York style, of kissing and clinging. 
It seemed to me, though, that this young couple had lots of 
nerve, making love in public as they did. But, then, some 
people are not particular in such matters; they act according 
to their feelings and don't give a cuss who sees them or what 
people think. 

In due time the people began to enter the park in crowds. 
Nearly all of them were of the working class, and were male 
and female, shop girls, working girls, clerks, mechanics, etc., 
with not a few middle aged and elderly people sandwiched in 
between. All wore their holiday togs and were out for a good 
time. I walked with the crowd to the musicstand which is 
situated quite a way from the entrance of the park. There 
were few benches around the musicstand so the vast majority 
of the people had to stand. 

This -vV^s the first big assemblage of Scotch people I had 
ever seen, and the types interested me, for they were so vari- 
ous and strange. I shall not attempt to describe them. Their 
conversation, to me, was fascinating, for it seemed odd and 
quaint. 

Bye and bye some little boys in uniform moved about in 
the throng handing out programs and I secured one. This is 
what I found printed on it: 

No. 1 — March; Glendaruel Highlanders. 

No. 2 — Strathspey; Marquis of Huntley. 

No. 3— Reel; The Auld Wife Ayont the Fire. 

No. 4 — March; Brian Boru. 

No. 5 — Strathspey; Sandy King. 

No. G — Reel ; Abercairney Highlanders. 



198 

Xo. 7 — Dance; Reel o' Tulloch. 

No. 8— Waltz; The Pride of Scotland. 

No. 9— Highland Fling. 

No. 10 — March; Loch Katrine Highlanders. 

No. 11— Strathspey; When Yon Go to the Hill. 

No. 12 — Reel; Over the Isles to America. 

No. 13 — Sword Dance. 

No. 14 — March; 93'ds Farewell to Edinbnrgh. 

No. 15 — Strathspey; Kessock Ferry. 

No. Ill — Reel; Mrs. McLeod's. 

No. 17 — Slow March; Lord Leven. 

Choir. 

No. 1 — Glee; Hail. Smiling Morn. 

No. 2— Part Song; Rhine Raft Song. 

No. 3 — Part Song; Maggie Lander. 

No. 4 — Part Song; Let the Hills Resound. 

No. 5 — Scottish Medley, introducing favorite Airs. 

No. G — We'll Hae Nane but Hielan Bonnets Here. 

No. 7— Part Song; Hail to the Chief. 

No. 8— Part Song; The Auld Man. 

No. 9 — Part Song; Awake, Aeolian Lyre. 

No. 10 — Part Song; Night; Lovely Night! 

No. 11 — God Save the King. 

A good long program this, and it looked good to me. 1 
was on the tiptoe of expectation. 

The musicstand was a large one and had a good sized 
dancing platform attached to it, but there were no musicians 
on the stand as yet, nor anyone else. 

The crowd stood around the platform in a dense mass, of 
which I formed a unit, waiting patiently for the trouble to 
begin. Some of the lads "were chaffing the lasses in a flirty 
way and if I were able to reproduce some of their Scottish 
badinage and alleged witticisms accurately I would do so, but 
as I did not take notes of them I will refrain from doing so. 



199 

After a long time had elapsed 1 heard some yelling and 
shrieking near the park entrance and wondered what the 
trouble was. Everyone craned their necks or stood on tiptoes 
looking in that direction. Directly I saw the people along the 
pathway, where the yelling and shrieking was going on, rush 
to either side of the walk hurriedly, and then I knew that it 
was what I had suspected, a dog fight. 

Anything to vary the monotony, thinks 1. It must have 
been a rattling good fight the dogs were having, for they were 
keeping up their noise without cessation, and were coming up 
this way, too, rapidly. 

A lane had been formed by the crowd where the fighting 
was going on, but suddenly I noticed that a band of musicians 
was moving rapidly along the lane toward us, playing the bag- 
pipes. 

Oh ho! it isn't a dog fight after all, then? The shrieking 
and yelling came from the pipes. Well, I'll be blowed, thinks 
I. 

As the musicians came nearer I could see that they were 
dressed in Highland costume. The men wore no trousers, but 
stockings came up to the knee and from the knee quite a way 
up, their limbs were bare. From the waist hung the kilts 
with a sporran in front of it, and around the shoulder was 
worn a plaid. On the side of the head of each man was 
perched a cap with a feather in it. Every man was playing 
the pipes and playing away as if his life depended on it. The 
musicians strode along swiftly as they played, their skirts 
swinging from side to side rapidly, reminding me of the can- 
teen girl at home as she marches with her regiment. 

These chaps were stern, erect and earnest, and marched 
and played grimly, looking neither to the right nor to the left 
as they marched, but wholly intent on business. The mob 
along the walk closed in behind the musicians after they had 
passed by them, and seemed delirious with excitement. "This 
stirs mv heelan bluid." I heard a bystander say. 



200 

The tune the bagpipes were playing was, 

Where, oh where, has my little dog gone. 
Where, oh where, can he be? 
With his hair cut long and his tail cut short, 
Where, oh where, can he be? 

Now, this is a very inspiring little tune, a sad little re- 
frain, in fact, but it was nothing new to me for I had heard 
it before, many a time. It was played as a march in quick 
time but I believe it can be set to dance music, as well. But 
what an infernal noise those pipes were making! One of 
these instruments can make noise enough to raise the dead, 
but a band of them — my goodness, gracious! Such o droning, 
a shrieking and a yelling there was! Wow! It was enougii 
to set a fellow crazy. But the louder the pipes played 
the more enthusiastic did the people become. 

The musicians were now approaching the bandstand but 
they did not go upon it as yet, but kept a marching and a 
marching around it, fiercely playing that same little old tune, 
continually and continuously. It got me awful tii'ed. I felt 
as if I'd like to go off somewhere to lay down and die. It got 
on my nerves. 

After marching around the stand to their heart's content 
the musicians went upon the stand and took seats. They per- 
mitted the old tune to die out long enough for that, anyway, 
thank fortune. After a proper rest the pipes began to skirl 
up for number one on the program, a rharch, "The Glendar- 
uel Highlanders." It seemed to me that there had been 
enough march music played and enough marching done, but 
the "push" didn't think so. They applauded the music and 
marching frantically. Go it, folks, as long as you're happy, 
thinks I. 

No. 2 was a Strathspey, the Marquis of Huntley. There 
Avas something doing this time. Several of the kilt-attired 
Highlanders came to the fore and gave us a real old-fashioned 
dance. Say, it was great! I never saw the like. Those 
Highlanders were as lively and supple as eels, and their 



201 

inovcjuents were so quick that the eye could scarcely follow 
them. And how gracefully they danced! Theirs was the 
poetry of motion. 1 did not wonder that the crowd went clean 
crazy now, for so did I, and so would almost anyone, had they 
seen the dancing. It was great. The dancers were slim, 
wiry and tireless, and seemed to be able to dance forever. 
Their wind was so good that I felt as if I'd hate to tackle any 
one of them in a scrap. Och-Aye! They were too long- 
winded. 

No. 3 was a reel, "The Auld Wife ayont the Fire," and this 
was danced by the Highlanders, as were all the dances, in 
fact. Not a woman participated. This reel was about the 
wildest thing I ever saw. The dancers turned themselves 
loose and let themselves run wild. It seemed as if they had 
suddenly gone crazy. They hopped, skipped and jumped, they 
leaped in the air, whirled, whooped, yelled and shrieked. You 
would have thought that a band of Sioux Indians were on the 
warpath and had sighted the enemy. Such lively movements 
I never saw before. 

The Scotch must be devils when they break loose, thinks 
I. There is no restraining them. Their dancing, their steps, 
their actions and their methods were a revelation to me. A 
performance like this is worth crossing the ocean to see. 

No. 5, Strathspey, "Sandy King," was a good number; 
No. G, reel, "Abercairney Highlanders," was a corker and got 
the crowd utterly crazy, including yours truly; the reel o' 
Tulloch was another wild Indian dance and made everyone's 
hair stand on end, including that of your humble servant, 
who is not apt to enthuse without a good cause. 

Number 9, "Highland- Fling," came next and was a dandy. 
It was more energetic and lively even than the reel, and I be- 
gan to wonder how the human frame could endure so much 
exertion without collapsing, but those fellows never would 
tire. It was wonderful! wonderful!! wonderful!!! All the 
dancing was great. I cannot describe it as it should be de- 
scribed. I shall say no more about it except to mention one 
more dance, the Sword Dance. This was danced by one man 



202 

only. Two naked sword blades were placed upon the stage 
crosswise, and rather a thick set (buirdley) Highlander 
danced between the blades, but never anywhere else. He 
danced slowly, then rapidly; he spun, jumped, leaped with all 
kinds of steps and movements and never came any where 
near touching a sword blade. How he did it I don't know. 
That performer ranke,d high as an artist I learned, and was 
celebrated throughout Scotland. He would draw a large audi- 
ence anywhere, the world over. 

When I returned to my room that evening my landlady 
asked me how I liked the dancing. I told her it was the most 
marvelous exhibition of dancing that I had ever seen. And it 
was, by long odds. 



CHAPTER XXI. 
TAKING IN A SHOW. 

That same evening I took in a show at the Gayety 
Theatre, one of the largest and oldest theatres in Scotland. 
The Gayety is situated across the Clyde from where I lived 
and as the performance was to begin at six o'clock in the 
evening I would have to start pretty soon now, for I intended 
to walk and the distance was considerable. I had plenty of 
daylight before me, however, for it would not grow dark 
until ten o'clock or later. 

I arrived at the Gayety in good season and noticed that 
it was a lofty and ancient stone building with nothing very 
ornamental about it to show that it was a play-house. It was 
my intention to go up in the gallery — price sixpence — as it 
was the intention of a great many others to do, for there 
was a large crowd present, in front of the box office and 
extending a couple of hundred feet or more into the street 
beyond. I got in line and waited for the doors to open. By 
paying an extra penny or so I could have got in what is 



203 

called "the early door," and in that way could have avoided 
the rush and long wait, and could have secured a good seat 
before the mob rushed in; but I concluded to mix in with the 
"push" and take my chances. 

It was a tedious wait, however, in front of the doors. 
To while away the tedium some fellows in the crowd began 
to play pranks with each other, Scottish fashion. A chap 
behind me gave me a jolt in the rump with his knee and 
tipped my hat over my eyes. I told him not to get too gay, 
whereupon he heard my accent and knew at once that I was 
a foreigner. He informed the others of the fact in a loud 
voice, and they quickly made it mighty interesting for me. 
They flung all kinds of impudent questions at me, they 
cheered me, jeered me, called me names and made life a 
burden to me for awhile. I was sorry I had opened my mouth 
but I had the wit to keep quiet, at such a time; for the least 
said, the soonest mended. 

I kept mum, all right, and let them enjoy themselves. 
They quit when they got ready and gave their attention to 
some one else. Had I said anything more they would have 
had lots more fun with me, I have no doubt. 

The gallery doors were slowly opened a little before six 
by an old man who was dressed in theatre livery, and then 
there was a rush and a squeeze to 'get to the ticket windo■v\^ 
I was nearly squeezed as flat as a pancake but I held my 
own in the jam and gave way to nobody. This was a case 
of each for himself and the devil for us all. I got to the 
ticket window all right in due season. 

After securing my ticket I rushed up the stone stairways 
with the crowd. There were as many steps to mount, it 
seemed to me, as there are Inside of the Goddess of Liberty 
in New York harbor, and that is not a few. I was compelled 
to stop several times to take a breather but no one else 
stopped, I noticed, which convinced me of the fact that the 
Scots are a long-winded race. I wouldn't want to tackle any 
of them in a scrap, for their wind is better than mine and 
I'd come out at the little end of the horn. 



204 

I finally reached the gallerj', pretty well spent. The 
gallery was next to the roof and by standing on a seat I could 
almost touch the ceiling with my hand. The seats were 
wooden benches and the comforts were not many. But what 
can you expect for sixpence? 

Below the gallery were other tiers, nearly all of which 
contained stalls, individual boxes, private boxes, in fact. 
These seemed to me to be drygoods boxes boarded up to the 
middle with the upper part open, so as to afford the occupants 
a view of things. The stalls were not much more voluminous 
than drygoods boxes but they afforded a certain privacy and 
seclusion. On the ground floor was the pit, what Americans 
call the orchestra. 

Little boys in livery were moving about on the various 
floors crying out "program," with the accent on the first 
syllable, and as I wanted a program I hailed a boy who 
handed me one, and wanted a penny (two cents) for it. I 
thought he was trying to work me but to save annoyance I 
gave him a penny. I soon learned that all theatre programs 
must be paid for in Scotland, an old custom this. This is 
what the program contained: 



1 — La Puits d" Amour, Balfe; Band. 

Mr. John Robertson, Baritone Vocalist. 
Drew and Richards in their specialty act, Old 
Fashioned Times. 
4 — Mr. Billy Ford, Negro Comedian. 

The Alaskas, Comic Horizontal Bar Experts. 
Mr. Edward Harris, London Comedian. 
Miss Josie Trimmer, Child Actress and the For- 
get-me-nots, Vocalists and Dancers. 
Selection, Yoeman of the Guard. 
Miss Sarah Adams, American Serpentine Dancer. 
The Gees, in their musical oddety, "Invention." 
Collins and Knowles, in their Refined Specialty 
Act. 



No. 


1- 


No. 


2- 


No. 


o- 


No. 


4- 


No. 


5- 


No. 


6- 


No. 


7- 


No. 


8- 


No. 


9- 


No. 


10 


No. 


11- 



205 

No. 12 — Mr. Charles Russell, Comedian and Descriptive 

Vocalist. 
No. 13 — National Anthem, 

Quite a lengthy program this, and it looked as if it might 
be good. If the performance were half as good as the one 
given in the Green that afternoon, I would have no kick 
coming. We shall see, said I to myself, as I waited with what 
patience I could muster. 

After a long and tedious wait the orchestra away down 
below in front of the stage began to tune up and gave us an 
overture called "La Puits d' Amour," by Balfe. Balfe is a 
good composer and has written some fine pieces, but this one 
seemed dull. Whether the composition is a dull one or 
whether the orchestra was a poor one I do not know, but 
the music was dull, uninteresting and so long drawn out that 
I soon found myself nodding, for somnolent music is apt to 
make me snooze. 

After the selection was ended there came a pause of a 
few minutes and then there was a sort of half-hearted fan- 
fare during which the curtain was rung up and "Mr. John 
Robertson, Baritone Vocalist," strode upon the stage and 
graciously bowed to the audience. 

Mr. Robertson was a young man. He was attired in 
evening dress and there was a heavy gold chain hanging in 
front of his black vest which he kept a hold of as he sang. 
Whether there was a watch attached to the chain I don't 
know, nor do I know whether the chain was solid gold or 
brass, but it looked good from the distance. Mr. Robertson 
was a very indifferent singer who got me tired; he could not 
sing a little bit and I felt relieved when he made his exit. 
When he finally tore himself away from us, which he seemed 
loth to do, he took his massive chain with him. It must have 
been valuable. 

No. 3 was Drew and Richards in their specialty act, "Old 
Fashioned Times." A gentleman and lady came upon the 
stage dressed in very queer togs and as soon as the lady 



20G 

opened her mouth to sing I knew that she was a man. The 
chap who impersonated the lady was not on to his job at all. 
He was a caricature. The act was a poor one but the gallery' 
gods did not think so to judge from the way they applauded. 
They stamped, cheered and bellowed "bee! bee!" through 
their clenched fists. It was a circus to me to observe the 
ways of the gallery gods, who were packed together as close 
as sardines in a box, including myself. 

Mr. Billy Ford, negro comedian, came next. 1 was ex- 
pecting to see a colored countryman of mine, and when he 
came upon the stage I thought he was a darky, but as soon 
as he began to sing the conviction was forced upon me that 
he was a London cockney dressed up as a nigger. Did you 
ever hear a colored chap talk with a cockney accent? I never 
did. When this chap endeavored to sing like a coon and 
to dance and talk like one, I was astonished — paralyzed 
almost. I felt pained and had a feeling that I wanted to go 
home to my mother, but the gallery gods went into ecstacies 
of delight. I guess they had not seen much of darkies and 
were unfamiliar with their ways. I began to think that this 
was a pretty rotten show and felt like going home. The idea; 
a coon with a cockney accent; the Lord deliver us! 

"The Alaskas, Comic Horizontal Bar Experts," came next. 
They might have been experts at a drinking bar, but I have 
seen better gymnasts in free shows on the Coney Island 
Bowery than these fellows. They were tame — rotten. Take 
'em away. 

Mr. Edward Harris, London Comedian, was next. Harris 
was a celebrity from the London music halls and he was 
undoubtedly a great artist. Here, at last, was an actor of 
talent and merit. His impersonations of London characters 
were true to the life and there was a go, a spirit and a vim 
in his characterization that brought down the house. 

I had been listless and indifferent until now but this real 
actor showed to me what genius — talent is, and stirred me up. 
Why Is great acting called talent and not genius? You do 
not hear people say that an actor is a genius, but that he 



207 

has talent. At any rate the London comedian was a genius. 
He kept the house in an uproar, and the audience could not 
get enough of him. He responded to several encores. It 
was a study to watch the audience encore. Such ways and 
methods of conduct I had never seen before. It pays to go 
abroad to see things. 

Miss Josie Trimmer, Child Actress, and the Forget-me- 
nots, Vocalists and Dancers, were next on the program. Little 
Josie was evidently under the protection of the "Forget-me- 
nots"; she was a cute child but devoid of any ability what- 
ever. The Forget-me-nots were Scotch lassies who were coon 
shouters and dancers, but tell me, did you ever hear a coon 
lady speak with a Scotch accent? These ladies put a good 
deal of ginger into their work and thought they were doing 
fine, and so did the audience, but they gave me a pain. I 
looked around and wanted to go home, but I was so wedged 
in that it would have been a difficult matter to get out. 

The next event on the program was a selection by the 
orchestra, an overture, "Yeoman of the Guard." This afforded 
an intermission of which many took advantage of by going 
down stairs to see a man. I thought of going home, but the 
next number on the program was to be an act by an Ameri- 
can lady, Miss Sarah Adams, American Serpentine Dancer, 
and I felt that I ought to remain to see her. It was a coon's 
age, it seemed to me, since I had seen an American face and 
heard an American voice. Those who have been in the old 
country can understand just what my feelings were. A sight 
of the American flag in a foreign country, will get an Ameri- 
can crazy with joy. God bless the dear old Stars and Stripes, 
he or she will say. 

I fortified myself with patience and waited for my coun- 
try-woman to appear on the stage. When her turn came, all 
the lights in the theatre were turned off, including the foot- 
lights, and a strong calcium light was turned on the stage. 
Colored glasses were set before the calcium light in all colors 
of the rainbow. The orchestra played low and thrilling music, 
whereupon the danseuse suddenly hopped into view on the 



208 

stage enwrapped in diaphonous folds of cheesecloth which 
she threw around herself in waves, cascades, etc., and upon 
which the calcium light played in many colors. It was a 
gorgeous spectacle. Miss Adams was tall, lean and bony, a 
New England type, and she threw her arm and limbs about 
in a manner to mystify the eye. Sallie was all right. She 
was onto her job in good shape. She was spry and chipper 
and evidently did not give a rap who saw her, but hopped 
about unconcernedly. I applauded her wildly, not because 
her acting was so good, for I had seen as good and better 
at home, but because she was my country-woman. 1 stamped, 
I whistled, I catcalled, and I'll bet my neighbors thought that 
I had suddenly gone crazy; but not a rap did I care for what 
they thought. Go it, Sallie, you're a darling! Go it, old girl! 
Show these foreigners what you can do, thought I. 

But those blue, red, green, yellow, purple, orange and 
other lights made me think of the Fourth of July at home 
and a wave of homesickness swept over me. I rushed out 
and for home. I had had enough. That was the first show I 
attended in Scotland, but not the last, by any means. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

"TA-TA, GLESGIE!" 

Well, I had put in a grand day and night of sight-seeing 
and Glasgow suited my taste well. It is a huge city, full of 
manufacturing establishments, wholesale business houses and 
an endless lot of retail stores. It is the centre of trade, ship- 
ping and commerce in Scotland, and above all it is the most 
famous shipbuilding place in the world. What New York is 
to the United States, Glasgow is to Scotland, the metropo- 
lis and most populous city. Everyone is chock full of busi- 
ness in Glasgow and making money, apparently. It is a vast 
commercial city arid interesting enough to those who like an 
active, bustling, lively place. But though the Glasgow folks 
are full of business they like pleasure and comfort as well, 
for their city is a gay one in many respects. It contains a 
great many theatres and other amusement places; many fine 
parks; plenty of open space and squares; and some fine monu- 
ments. It also contains a very large, well equipped and splen- 
did public museum at Kelvinside, which contains voluminous 
collections of armor, tapestries, statuary, paintings, natural 
history objects, etc. Also many other things that are worth 
seeing and studying. I put in a week agreeably in Glasgow, 
and never felt time hang heavy on my hands. I found the 
people to be sociable, and not too proud or too stuck-up to 
speak to me. Their ways, speech, dress and manner were a 
never failing source of interest to me as mine were to them 
in a measure, for they seemed to have quite a liking for 
Americans. Many of them, however, displayed a woeful ignor- 
ance of "the States," as they called them. I gave them all 
the information I could and it pleased me to speak lo them 
on such a subject, for it was one dear to me. 



210 

One thing struck me very forcibly before I had been in 
Scotland very long, and that was, how popular Robert Burns, 
the poet, was. Streets and lanes are named after him; monu- 
ments have been erected to him, and there are pictures of 
him displayed galore; clubs are named after him; bum look- 
ing cigars, hats, caps, shoes, clothing, liquors, an-l a multi- 
tude of other things, too numerous to mention, some as a 
mark of affection or reverence, and some, merely as a trade- 
mark. The notion came to me that for Burns, Scotchmen 
will die; Scotch ladies sigh; Scotch babies cry; Scotch dogs 
kiyi. Everyone seemed to think well of him and yet he had 
been dead more than 150 years. Scotland has produced other 
great poets, such as Allan Ramsay, Robert Ferguson, James 
Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, Motherwell and many others, 
some of whom were first class, yet none of them were as 
popular as Burns. Was Robert Burns so immeasurably 
superior to all other poets? Why was he so great? What did 
he do to so enthrall humanity? 

He believed that the proper study for mankind is man, 
and he understood mankind as few mortals ever did. This 
knowledge came to him partly by intuition and partly by 
study. The eye of his genius perceived that which the ordi- 
nary mortal man cannot perceive or acquire by study. 

Cannot the same be said of other men of genius? It 
seems to me it can, but there are qualities, degrees, grades' 
in genius, evidently. Genius is nothing more nor less than 
great, good, common sense; wit, originality, I take it; a quality 
that is born in man and cannot be acquired, but strange to 
say every man of genius does not possess the quality of gen- 
ius to an equal degree. 

One poem alone of Burns which will always appeal to 
mankind evinces his superiority, although it is not the only 
poem that discloses his great genius. I refer to, "Honest 
Poverty," which I will reprint here and descant upon. Had 
Burns written no other poem than this one, it would have 



211 

rendered him immortal, and yet it is not clothed in fine, 
flowery or erudite language. It does contain good common 
sense though. Here is the poem: 

HONEST POVERTY. 

Is there for honest poverty, 
That hangs its head and a' that; 
The coward slave we pass him by, 
We dare be poor for a' that; 
For a' that and a' that, 
The rank is but the guinea stamp 
The man's the gowd for a' that. 

What though on hamely fare we dine 

W^ear hodden grey and a' that; 

Give fools their silks and knaves their wine 

A man's a man for a' that. 

For a' that and a' that; 

The honest man though e'er sae poor. 

Is king of o' men for a' that. 

Ye see you birkie, ca'd a lord 

Wha' struts and stares and a' that? 

Though hundreds worship at his word 

He's but a coof for a' that; 

For a' that and a" that 

The man of independent mind 

He looks and laughs at a' that. 

A prince can make a belted knight 

A marquis, duke and a' that; 

But an honest man's aboon his might — 

Guid faith he maunna fa' that; 

For a' that and a' that. 

Their dignities and a' that 

The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, 

Are higher ranks than a' that. 

Then let us pray that come it may. 

As come it will for a' that. 

That sense and worth o'er all the earth 

May bear the gree, and a' that! 

For a' that and a' that 

Its coming yet for a' that 

That man to man, the world o'er 

Shall brothers be for a' that. 



212 

There are some Scottish words in this poem that I do 
not understand, yet I can gather their general meaning. Burns 
says in tuneful numbers, that rank is but the guinea's 
(money) stamp and that man's the gold for all that. What 
if he does dine on poor grub and wears poor clothes; give 
fools their silks and knaves their wine, a man's a man for all 
that. "The honest man though e'er so poor, is king of men 
for all that." How does that strike you? Look deep down in 
your heart and ask yourself if it is true. "You see that per- 
son, called a lord, who struts and stares and all that; thougli 
hundreds worship at his word he is not much for all that; 
his riband, star and a' that, the man of independent mind, 
he looks and laughs at all that." 

These sentiments were declared by a peasant-born lad 
who lived in a country where noblemen flourished and were 
regarded with awe and reverence by people of his rank, but 
he could estimate them at their true worth. Burns was a 
republican at heart, a true child of nature. His genius could 
perceive that noblemen wei'e no better than ordinary folk, 
even though they had been born to the purple. Their wealth 
procured them a higher education, more pleasures, and more 
accomplishments; but at heart they were no different from 
other people^ 

"A prince can make a belted knight;" which means that 
royalty can bestow honors and titles, "but an honest man's 
aboon that," but he cannot make an honest man. 

"It's coming yet for a' that, that man to man the world 
over, shall brothers be for a' that." The time is coming but 
arriving slowly, when all men will be brothers and this 
prophecy of a poet who lived over 150 years ago is being- 
fulfilled. Robert Burns lived before the United States and 
other republics were born. Is not the brotherhood of man 
establishing more republics? France, since Burns wrote his 
immortal poem, became a Republic and so did Portugal, with 
other countries probably to follow. In time there may be 
naught but the brotherhood of man and equality, liberty and 



213 

fraternity for all. "Honest Poverty" is a great l3oem — simple, 
musical and true. 

Can anyone tell me why Burns' poem, "Auld Lang Syne,"' , 
is so popular and why it is sung in public assemblages the 
world over? Why does it so appeal to the human heart and 
mind? 

Here is its opening stanza: 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot 
And never brought to min'? 
Should auld acquaintance be forgot 
And days o' auld lang syne? 
For auld lang syne, my dear, 
For auld lang syne, 
We'll tak a cup o' k'indness yet 
For auld lang syne. 

***** 

Burns was of humble parentage. He was born m a bunk, 
situated in the kitchen of a little stone hut on his parents' 
farm in Ayrshire, and he was brought up on the farm. He 
went to school and was given an ordinary education, but 
like the bird that is born to sing and soar, so Robbie natur- 
ally sings, and he soared higher, almost, than any other mortal 
ever did. 

In Scotland, Sir Walter Scott came nearest to Burns as 
a poet, although Scott far surpassed Burns as a prose writer. 
Burns died before he had attained his fortieth year and had 
not had a fair opportunity to perfect himself as a prose writer. 
I do wish that I could devote a whole chapter to Burns, to 
say as much of him as I would like to say, and to show just 
why he is so venerated today by Scottish people, and others; 
I fear that if I did so, this book would become too voluminous 
and possibly weary the reader, so I had better not go too 
far. Only a few words more about him. 

Burns was born and raised on his father's I'arm as I 
said before, and as soon as he was able, he got out and helped 
with, the farm work, doing chores, plowing, etc. But, even 
when a boy, he took to rhyming and wrote down his thoughts 
on paper whenever he could. He kept his poems, showed 



214 

them to his friends, and some of his discriminating friends 
advised him to have them printed. He took his writings to 
a town near by, Kilmarnoclc, where he placed them in the 
hands of a printer. The printer agreed to put the poetry in 
book form on condition that a certain number of the books 
be subscribed for beforehand so as to secure him against 
loss. The subscriptions were obtained and the book was 
printed. As soon as the book appeared, Burns became fam- 
ous. It was seen at once that he had genius of a higher 
order. Bobbie was a very handsome boy and it was not 
long before everyone began to admire him, including the girls. 
Not a few of the girls showed him plainly how much they 
thought of him, and as Bobby was human he reciprocated 
their regard. 

The result was that a few of the girls got into trouble 
and it was not long before several wild-eyed fathers and 
brothers went a-gunning for the poet, but when matters were 
explained to them they cooled down somewhat. Some of 
the girls who ran after Burns could not have been kept away 
from him with a cannon. One girl, Jean Armour, had twins 
by him the first rattle out of the box and her father insisted 
on marriage. Bobbie liked Jean well enough to marry her 
and he did so. Jean had deuces at a second throw, which 
coavinced people that Bobbie could wrestle with prose as 
well as with poetry. These things are a matter of record 
and nearly all the world knows them. They are not figments 
of my brain. 

Quite a number of children were born to Burns and his 
wife, and the poor poet had many trials and tribulations, but 
he continued to write and gained money and fame. He was 
not much of a business man or financier and did not manage 
well. The result was that he was nearly always in hot water. 
By this time, though, his fame had spread all over the world 
and he became more and more popular. Society ran after 
him and lionized him, but Bobbie was not cut out for a society 
lion. 

It is a strange fact and a true one that those mortals 



215 

possessing the greatest genius were usually the simplest, and 
did not put on style or airs. They knew and understood that 
they were born with the divine afflatus, but as it came to 
them naturally they took it as a matter of course, like any- 
thing else that they are not responsible for. Though their 
native wit, talent, genius, ability — call it what you will- 
may have been colossal, they were diffident, fearful, and 
dubious of their own powers. They felt that they were born 
to soar but they knew not how high. That was the case 
with Burns and many others. Experience only begat confi- 
dence. Burns felt that he had some ability, but he thought 
there were others far abler than he, and whom he looked 
upon with awe and admiration. I refer to Allan Ramsay, 
Robert Ferguson and other poets who preceeded him. Yet 
Burns was superior to them all, immeasurably so. 

To demonstrate how Burns regarded himself, I will re- 
print here the preface to his first volume of poems which he 
had printed at Kilmarnock and which was sold by subscrip- 
tion, as I mentioned before. This is it: 

"The following trifles are not the production of the poet, 
who, with all the advantages of learned art and perhaps amid 
the elegancies and idleness of upper life looks down for a 
meral theme with an eye to Theocritus or Virgil. Unac- 
quainted with the necessary requisites for commencing poetry 
by rule, he sings the sentiments and manners he felt and saw 
in himself and his rustic compeers around him; in his and 
their native language. Though a rhymer from his earliest 
years it was not till very lately that the applause (perhaps 
the partiality) of friendship awakened his vanity so as to 
make him think anything of his worth showing,- for none of 
the poems were composed with a view to the press. To amuse 
himself with the little creations of his own fancy amid the 
toil and fatigue of a laborious life, these were his motives 
for courting the muses. Now that he appears in the public 
character of an author, he does it with fear and trembling. 
So dear is fame to the rhyming tribe that even he, an obscure, 
nameless bard, shrinks aghast at the thought of being brand- 



21G 

ed as an impertinent blockliead, obtruding his nonsense on 
the world; and because he can malte shift to jingle a few 
doggerel Scottish rhymes together, looking upon himself ad 
a poet of no small consequence, forsooth! If any critic 
catches at the word genius, the author tells him once for all, 
that he certainly looks upon himself as possessed of some 
poetic abilities, otherwise the publishing, in the manner he 
has done, would be a maneuver below the worst character his 
worst enemy will ever give him. But to the genius of an 
Allan Ramsay or a Robert Ferguson, (the prominent type is 
mine — Windy Bill's), he has not the least pretension, nor 
ever had, even in his highest pulse of vanity. These two 
justly admired Scottish poets he has often had in his eye but 
rather to kindle in their flame than for servile imitation." 

Thus it will be seen that Burns feared the critics, and 
that he was dubious of his own powers; and that he rated 
himself below Ramsay and Ferguson. 

Burn's native wit was greater than that of all other 
Scottish poets, and as time rolls on his popularity increases 
rather than diminishes. As an evidence of this fact, his grave 
and birthplace are visited by a multitude of strangers every 
year. How many know anything of, or visit the stamping 
ground, of other Scottish poets? 

I had a pretty good time in Glasgow. I rode in the 
trams down either side of the River Clyde, to outlying dis- 
tricts, through the maze of streets; I took a boat ride to 
Dunoon, and to Rothesay on the Isle of Bute and enjoyed my- 
self hugely. Had I only been wealthy, wouldn't I have given 
the boys and girls a good time? Well, you can bet your 
bottom dollar that I would have done so, and painted the 
town red, but alas, the mind was willing but the purse was 
weak. 

My landlady was very good to me and I hated to leave 
her, but then it was a case of "needcessity," as the fellow 
said; in other words, a case of have to. 

Edinburgh was my next objective point. Edinburgh is 
about fifty or sixty miles from Glasgow, in an almost due east 



217 

direction, and as the railroad fare in Scotland is a penny (two 
cents) a mile, third class, that price is cheaper than walking or 
staying at home. Therefore I rode. A 'bo never hikes it un- 
less he has to, and in this case I didn't have to, for I had 
money in my purse. I wasn't broke yet, although pretty 
near it. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

EDINBURGH. 

Edina, Scotia's darling Seat, 

All hail, thy palaces and towers. 

Where once beneath a monarch's feet, 

Sate legislation's sovereign powers. — Robert Burns. 

Edinburgh is an altogether different city from Glasgow. 
It has only about 250,000 people and is the capital of Scotland, 
but it is not a commercial city; it is a show town. It is one 
of the handsomest cities in the world and by far the most 
interesting one that I was ever in. Like Seattle, Tacoma, 
Portland, Council Bluffs, San Francisco, and some other 
cities that I had been in, it is full of hills, mountains and 
valleys, and seems picturesque. A diversity of scenery con- 
duces to make almost any place so; but Edinburgh is more 
than naturally beautiful. It is enhanced by art. Besides, 
it is historical and classical in outlines. It is full of rare 
and ancient palaces, towers, buildings, streets, squares, mar- 
ket places, closes, wynds, etc.; and wears a medieval aspect 
that gives one an idea of what things were in the long ago. 

The people in Scotland love Edinburgh and call it by pet 
names, such as Edinboro, Edina, Scotia's darling seat, the 
Athens of the North, etc., and it is worthy of all the love they 
can bestow upon it. 

Right in the center of the city stands a mountain nearly 
a thousand feet high which is crowned by a fortified place, 
Edinburgh Castle, and which is almost as old as the hill 



218 

that it stands on. In remote ages when man was in the bar- 
baric stage and when might made right, castles were built 
for protection, around which the humble people built their 
dwellings, so that when a foe swept down on them they could 
fly to its sheltering walls for protection. In barbaric ages 
people hardly knew enough to cook their meat for they placed 
it on a saddle beneath their person and galloped their horses 
about until the meat was tender. Then they ate it. Maybe 
you think this is a hobo yarn? Well, it is not. 

Edinburgh castle as it stands today is not the original 
building, for the original one was built long before any 
records were kept, a thousand, maybe thousands of years ago. 
The castle was destroyed and rebuilt several times. It stands 
today huge and massive as the rocks, and a wonderfully in- 
teresting structure it is. It was built so high up so as to 
sweep the foe off the face of the earth as he approached on 
the plains far below, but if the foe escaped from this peril 
and approached the castle to capture it, then he had a few 
hard nuts to crack. 

Firstly, he would have to storm a thick and lofty stone 
wall away down on. the mountain side. If he captured that, 
then there was a wall to overcome further up the steep hill. 
If he were lucky enough to capture this barrier, then he could 
gain the esplanade of the castle, which is an open space, a drill 
ground in front of the castle. Here his real troubles would 
begin, for right in front of the massive walls of the castle 
there is a ditch about twenty feet deep, (called a moat), 
which was full of water and sufficiently wide to prevent any 
one from leaping across it. 

The drawbridge lowered by a portcullis — a sort of pulley 
and chain affair — led over the moat, but it was raised as soon 
as the enemy appeared. Thus, he could not cross the moat 
to gain the gateway. The walls in which the gate is affixed 
are of stone and twenty or thirty feet in thickness. Had 
the foe gained an entrance through this gateway then he 
would have found himself in the castle yard, but by no means 
in the castle itself, for there stood a fort, almost impregnable. 



219 

There were men of military genius in the centuries gone 
by, as there are in this, who could devise means to attack 
successfully as well as to defend, so that Edinboro Castle 
like every other structure of its kind, is by no means in- 
vulnerable. It would not last long against modern guns, 
maybe. In fact, Edinboro Castle, huge and strong as it is, 
never was invulnerable. In romances it has been shown how 
such castles were captured, but the real battle scenes were 
far more horrible than depicted. 

When an old castle was assaulted, huge rocks were 
hurled through the air by means of ponderous machines; 
javelins, arrows and darts were thrown or shot, some bearing 
masses of blazing pitch and tow, with occassionally, per- 
haps, an arrow carrying a message from a traitor. Barrels 
of Greek fire were used by the defenders, or boiling oil, 
melted pitch, molten lead, unslacked lime, etc. Towers were 
built by the besiegers with rollers, so they could be rolled up 
to the castle walls, and men mounted them to spring on the 
ramparts of the castle to fight at close quarters. The founda- 
tions of a castle were undermined, and in other ways assaults 
were made. 

While a castle was being besieged the scenes were 
awful. There was a wild and horrid confusion of terrible 
sounds, the din of armor, the shouting of battle cries, the 
groaning of dying men, the crash of falling stones, timbers 
and crumbling walls. Men shrieked in agony as they were 
burned by the hot oil, melted pitch or molten lead, and the 
actual scenes were indescribable. Romance never has related 
the true horrors of such scenes. But I am a little ahead of 
my story. 

As the distance between Glasgow and Edinboro is rather 
short and the passenger traffic between the two places heavy, 
trains run hourly, almost. I left Glasgow on one of the earl- 
iest trains and got to Edinboro before eight o'clock in the 
morning. This gave me a big, long day for sightseeing. The 
first thing I intended to do was to rent a furnished room so 
that I would have a home to go to. 



220 

I arrived in the Caledonian Railroad station in Edinboro, 
which is not quite so large a one as St. Enoch's in Glasgow, 
but it is a large and fine one, nevertheless. When 1 stepped 
outside I found myself in a large public square from which 
radiated wide, clear, stone paved streets. Straight ahead of 
me extended Princes street, the leading one in town, and in 
another direction lay the Lothian Road along which I walked 
leisurely, reconnoitering carefully as I went. The houses, 
stores and everything in that locality seemed neat and pre- 
cise, and along there, were hotels, restaurants and not a few 
high class stores. From the Lothian Road radiated many 
streets, for it was avenue-like. Some of these streets were 
by no means fine ones, for they were inhabited by poor peo- 
ple whose domiciles were ancient and odd. 

I turned up Spittal street and after going into various 
houses where "Room to Let" signs were displayed, finally 
secured a room on the top floor of a house on Spittal street, 
in a flat occupied by a large family. This family had recently 
arrived from the north country of Scotland with the intention 
of trying their luck in Edinboro. 

The family consisted of father, mother, five girls and 
four boys. Two sons were grown up and married and did not 
live at home with their parents, and the same may be said 
of the oldest daughter; but there were four girls living at 
home and two little boys with whom I slept. The name of 
these people were Cameron and I believe they were "Heelan" 
(Highland). The father was tall, bony and wiry, with an 
erect carriage and the eye of an eagle, sharp and grey. 
Though he was about fifty years of age he was a remarkable 
athlete and besides, a good musician, a champion at checker 
playing, (draughts), and accomplished in several other ways 
as well. 

The mother was built on the same plan as the father, 
for she was tall and gaunt, had a gray eye and was erect; 
she was very gentle though, yet she could be fierce enough 
if driven to it. The girls were light-haired and sylph-like in 
shape and engaging in manner — everyone of them. Violet, 



221 

the married daughter, often came home on a visit to lier 
parents', for she lived close by. 

"Vi," as her folks called her w^as the prettiest of all the 
sisters and was a musician of no mean ability. She played 
the piano and guitar and sang. She had been on the stage 
but had left it at her husband's request. The Camerons were 
having a hard struggle just then to make both ends meet 
and that is why they accepted me as a roomer. The kiddies 
with whom I bunked were chubby little fellows with dirty 
faces, generally, and running noses, but like all Scottish 
children they were well behaved, decent, orderly and quiet, 
and very bashful and respectful toward their elders. They 
could be noisy enough when playing in the street with other 
children. But Scottish children are rarely rude, rough or 
boisterous. A word from a grown-up person will usually 
quiet them instantly. Obedience and respect seem to be born 
in them. 

I had no trouble renting the room, for Mrs. Cameron was 
an agreeable lady to deal with, and after I had rented the 
room I soon went forth to see the Castle which was only a 
few blocks away and could be seen from my domicile window. 
I had never seen a structure like that before and that is why 
I was so eager and anxious to go forth. 

After about a two minutes' walk through Spittal street 
and past Castle Terrace street, I came upon the thorough- 
fare that led up to the castle. It was a well paved street up 
which pedestrians as well as vehicles could go, for the incline 
was gradual. A little way up along this street there stands 
a long, stone building which is used as the quarters for the 
officers who are in command of the soldiers stationed in the 
barracks, within the castle walls. The word castle means a 
fortified place. The barracks in the castle yard contain 
accommodations for about a thousand soldiers (a vegiment), 
and the barracks have been in the castle yard since time im- 
memorial. I gained the top of the hill on which the Castle 
is built without any effort and found myself at the esplanade, 
which is the drillground outside the castle walls. The espla- 



222 

nade is capacious, for a drillground naturally would have to 
be so, and from it a charming view of Edinboro can be had. 
Nearly the whole city lies on a plain surrounding the hill. 

It is a fine thing to view Edinboro from the esplanade, 
but even a better view can be had from on top of the castle 
battlements. 

At the drawbridge in front of the moat paced a sentinel, 
who looked cute in red coat and little cap set at the side of 
his head. I expected that he would stop me, if I tried to 
cross the drawbridge to enter the castle yard, but not a word 
did he say to me when I tried it. Thereupon, 1 walked 
through the stone gateway and marvelled at the thickness 
of the walls; they must have been about thirty feet in thick- 
ness. After passing through the gateway I found myself in 
the castle yard. In the yard was a pathway which wound 
upward, and along it were outbuildings of various kinds, 
such as storehouses, woodsheds, ammunition huts, lodges for 
the attendants., all built of stone. I walked up along the 
stone paved and rather steep pathway to find myself on the 
ramparts of the castle, along which stands the castle build- 
ing proper, the soldiers' barracks, St. Margaret's Chapel, and 
batteries of guns. Have you ever heard or read of old "Mons 
Meg," the cannon so renowned in song and story? Well, 
here she stands, large as life, on the Half-Moon Castle Bat- 
tery. She is fit for ornament rather than for use these days, 
for she is too old for service. She has been in half a dozen 
sieges and has been captured and recaptured many a time. 

The old Castle itself is four stories in height, is battle- 
mented and has a tower in the centre of the facade which 
is surmounted by a clock. The Castle proper is not fortified, 
for the fortalice stands in front of it and guards it. I entered 
the Castle and found that its rooms were not furnished at all. 
In fact, the rooms have not been occupied for centuries. The 
walls are immensely thick, the floors are stone paved and 
the ceilings are of stone, and rather low. They would form 
rather a dismal and dark abode these days, but no one lives 
in them, except possibly guides and wardens. One official is 



223 

in charge of the banquetting hall, which is now used for the 
display of a fine collection of armor and this official sells 
printed matter relating to it. 

In an upper chamber, which is low ceiled, dark and 
gloomy, Mary Queen of Scots was confined of her son James 
VI. of Scotland and England. Mary's confinement chamber 
to me seemed more like a prison than anything else, for its 
windows were deep, set in the stone walls. Some of the 
streets of Edinboro, below can be seen from this window and 
they seem miles away. The banquet hall which used to be 
the main living room, is the largest in the Castle and is noble 
in dimensions. It is stocked with Scottish armor and weap- 
ons of many periods, and I contemplated some of the weapons 
with awe. Here were battle-axes, halberts, pikes, blunder- 
busses, pistols, Lochaber axes, swords, etc., and some of them 
could have inflicted frightful wounds — could have cleft a. man 
from head to waist. 

In an upper room the regalia of Scotland is kept. This 
regalia was worn by Scottish royalty at one time and it is 
well taken care of and treasured. 

Ireland is striving for Home Rule these days, and may 
get it, so possibly Scotland some day may strive for Home 
Rule too. If Scotland gets it, then the royal regalia in the 
Castle tower will come in handy, that is, if Scotland chooses 
a king to rule over her. I don't suppose Scotland would fancy 
a republican form of government. 

Below the rocky foundations of the Castle are dungeons 
and oubliettes in which prisoners in past times were con- 
fined, and a sight of these oubliettes and dungeons fills one 
with sorrow and pity for those who had been confined there, 
for they were awful places. How awfully cruel were people 
in the days that have gone by. It is well that we live in a 
more enlightened age, though even today cruel deeds are 
done. 

I inspected the Castle thoroughly and visited it so many 
times afterward that the guards got to know me quite well, 
and often chatted with me. 



• 224 

After leaving the Castle I descended several stairways 
and walked through wynds and closes (courts and alleys) to 
the foot of the hill on which the Castle stands, where 1 
reached the Grassmarket. This is a large and historic old 
plaza or square, which -is used as a market place once or 
twice a week these days, and in foi'mer days served as an 
execution place, where criminals were put to death. Along 
the Grassmarket stand several inns that are hundreds of years 
old, which are famous for having been the stopping places of 
historical characters. They are doing a good business today. 
Among these is the Black Bull, the White Hart, and one or 
two others of lesser renown. There are also many old fash- 
ioned stores, restaurants, business establishments, lodging 
houses, etc., along the Grassmarket and also a police station, 
which is necessary, for this is a pretty tough locality. It has 
not changed in appearance much in centuries. 

It gives one an idea of what the Middle Ages were like. It 
was a revelation to me to observe the queer little shops, 
grocery and others. Things are sold pretty cheap in this 
locality. I picked up a circular that was lying on the side- 
walk and found the following verse printed on it: 

The tid-bits sold at Armour's bar 

They're famed both near and far. 

Bought by all, both saint and sinner, 
41/^d (9 cents) a princely dinner. 

I came upon a fairly neat-appearing place on "he Grass- 
market at the fi'ont of which was advertised in large letters, 
"Fish suppers, 2d," so I thought I'd go in and try my luck. 
When I stepped in I found myself in a large apartment in 
which there was a huge fire place, at which fish and potatoes 
were being fried. 

The savory odor that smote me as I entered was agree- 
able. On one side of the apartment opposite the grill were 
tables and benches that were enclosed in pew-like sub- 
divisions. One of these pews would hold two or three per- 
sons. I ordered a fish supper, whereupon a medium sized 



225 

dinner plate heaped lull of trench fried potatoes and fried 
fish of some sort, I think it was large hei rings, was set be- 
fore me. The fish and potatoes were delicious, so delicious 
in fact, that I felt I could stand another dose. The second 
helping filled me to the brim. Thus for eight cents I had a 
satisfying and substantial meal. A fellow can live pretty cheap 
in Scotland, I imagined, if he learns how. 

After emerging from the restaurant I sauntered through 
the Lawnmarket which lies adjacent to the Gvassmarket, and 
then passed along the High street, a very busy thoroughfare. 
What Americans would name "Main street" in a town or vil- 
lage, the British name, "High street," and High street in 
Scottish towns in the long ago, was always the main stieet; 
but the High street in Edinboro is no longer the principal 
thoroughfare, nor has it been for centuries. Princes street 
has long been the main thoroughfare in Edinboro and it is 
a charming one, having the Castle Park at one side of it and 
business houses on the other side. 

The High street is a busy thoroughfare nevertheless, 
though it is rather narrow. It is stone paved, old and quaint. 
The stores along it cater to the working people's trade, but 
they are fitted up attractively, and in their windows are dis- 
played big stocks of goods at compelling prices. 

I came upon an ancient public square upon which the 
Scottish House of Parliament stands. As Parliament House 
is no longer used for legislative purposes, its many halls, 
chambers and courts have been converted into law courts and 
chambers. Here the Civil Courts will be found. The vast 
Assembly Chamber wherein the Scottish Parliament sat sev- 
eral hundred years ago, long has been used by lawyers, who 
walk back and forth in its historic confines attired in cap and 
gown in quest of clients, for whenever anyone needs the 
services of a lawyer he can take his choice here of many.- 
Some fledgeling lawyers usually have a hard time of it secur- 
ing clients, and often haunt the Hall for years bofore they 
secure one. The chaps with an established reputation get 
the business. It was the hap of Sir Walter Scott to walk 



226 

this Hall for clients when he was first admitted to the bar 
and he walked so long and so fruitlessly that he became dis- 
gusted and abandoned the profession of law. He afterward 
secured a position, through influence, as Clerk of Sessions. 
This was before he had taken to literature and became fam- 
mous. Much would I like to say of Sir Walter Scott, one of the 
greatest novelists the world has ever produced, but I fear I 
shall have to forego the pleasure for I don't want to make 
this narrative a two volume affair. 

After I had inspected the old Scottish Parliament House 
to my heart's content (I visited it several times afterward), 
I passed down into the Canongate, an historic old street. It 
is a narrower thoroughfare even than the High street, but 
at one time — in the Middle Ages and earlier — -it was the 
leading street of Edinboro, in which dwelt the nobility. Here 
were located their fine establishments and palaces, but time 
has made wonderful changes here. As the city increased in 
size the nobility found more desirable sites and there Lhey 
moved. Their fine houses were dwelt in by others, and today 
they are mere tenement houses, occupied by the poorest of 
people. 

The exterior of a few of these buildings still have armor- 
ial bearings on them, but the structures are black and grimy 
from age and dirt. The White Horse Inn, which stands in the 
White Horse Close, (court), along the Canongate, is a very 
ancient and famous hostelry, and is well known in song 
and story. I had a good look at it and visited it many 
a time afterward, attracted by its quaiutness and oddity, 
but, today its various buildings and outbuildings have 
been subdivided into flats, or tenements, which are occu- 
pied by poor people who vegetate there at a low ren- 
tal. This hostelry at one time was quite the rage, and 
noblemen and princes gathered there to eat, drink and be 
merry. 

The old Tolbooth (prison) still stands on the Canongate 
but its various apartments have been converted into assembly 



227 

rooms, in which lodges and other societies meet. The Tol- 
booth is a rare old relic of ancient days. 

At the foot of the Canongate which lies about a mile 
distant from Edinboro Castle, stands Holyrood Palace, a 
structure not as old as the Castle by many centuries, but a 
historic old place for all that. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 
HOLYROOD PALACE. 

Holyrood Palace stands in a valley at the base of a lot 
of bare and lofty hills called the Salisbury Crags, the highest 
one of which was named Arthur's Seat, for it looks like a 
throne with a back to it. The palace stands in spacious 
grounds that are enclosed by an ornamental iron fence of 
royal design. 

The palace is not of any great extent, beautiful or orna- 
mental, but it is just rather a substantial white marble or 
stone structure having a few pretty little flanking towers 
along its front and sides, and that is about all. The palace is an 
open square, built around a court, with the right wing re- 
served for the use of royalty when it deigns to visit Edinboro. 
The King of England visited Scotland and lived at Holyrood 
several days in 1912. The left wing (which once was used 
by royalty but is not today) is open for the inspection of 
visitors. 

Holyrood has a most interesting history, as many a 
king and queen lived in it and held court there, but the fact 
that Mary Queen of Scots dwelt at Holyrood during a period 
throws a glamor of romance about it that it would not other- 
wise possess. Mary was by far the most interesting sovereign 
who ever ruled in Scotland. She was the daughter of James 
V, a merry and licentious monarch, and of Mary of (Juise, of 
France. Queen Mary of Scots was born and raised m France 



228 

and at an early age was married to the Dauphin of France; 
but the Dauphin was delicate from birth and died soon after 
marriage. Mary loved the noble and royal boy and was much 
affected by his death. Mary's mother, too, died at about the 
same time, which saddened her yet, more. As the throne 
of Scotland was hers by right of inheritance, her uncles 
(dukes of France) and other relatives advised her to go to 
Scotland and rule her country. Mary did not like to leave 
France, for her heart was buried there, but as she was an 
obedient and dutiful girl, she did as she was advised, but 
rued it afterward as did her high born relatives in France, 
bitterly. 

Mary was the handsomest woman of her time. She was 
tall, fair and stately, had pretty eyes, eyebrows that seemed 
penciled, small hands and feet, a majestic figure and a warm, 
deep and passionate heart. She was a woman fi^'st and a 
queen afterward. She possessed all the accomplishments of 
a queen and a grasp of worldly affairs which is so useful in 
life, but her judgment was not as good as it might have been. 
As a musician she was incomparable, for she could sing, and 
played well on the lute and viol d' amour (love viol), a sort 
of mandolin. She had literary ability of a high order and was 
a poetess as well. Witness the following lament to her 
husband, the Dauphin of France, which she wrote: 

Into my song of woe 
Sung to a low, sad air. 
My cruel grief I throw 
For loss beyond compare. 
In bitter sighs and tears 
Go by my fairest years. 

Was ever grief like mine 

Imposed by destiny? 

Did ever lady pine 

In high estate like me, 

Of whom both heart and eye 

Within the coffin lie? 



229 

\yho, in the tender spring 
And blossom of my youth, 
Taste all the sorrowing 
Of life's extremest ruth; 
And take delight in naught 
Save in regretful thought. 

All that was sweet and gay 
Is now a pain to see; 
The sunniness of day 
Is black as night to me; 
All that was my delight 
Is hidden from my siglit. 

Tormented by my ill 

I go from place to place. 

But wander as I will 

My woes can nought efface; 

My most of bad and good 

I find in solitude. 

But whereso'er I stay 
In meadow or in copse; 
Whether at break of day 
Or when the twilight drops, 
My heart goes sighing on, 
Desiring one that's gone. 

When my bed I seek 
And sleep begins to steal, 
Again I hear him speak. 
Again his touch I feel. 
In work or leisure, he 
Is ever near to me. 

Here make an end my verse 
Of this thy sad lament 
Whose burden shall rehearse 
Pure love of true intent 
Which separation's stress 
Will never render less. 



For reasons of State, soon after Mary had arrived in 
Scotland she was advised to marry again; and Mary, obedient 
as usual, consented. Everyone who gazed upon her, fell 



230 

under the spell of her beauty, for it was royal, matchless, 
superior to all others. Everyone bowed down and worship- 
ped her. In her the Scotch and French blood blended most 
harmoniously. Anyone and everyone was enthi ailed by 
her beauty and manner, but Lord Darnley, a son of the Earl 
of Lennox, was the lucky one selected for her. Darnley was 
English, and one of the handsomest men of his time, and 
Mary fell in love with him at first sight. They were married 
and lived at Holyrood. 

Darnley did not prove to be a good husband, however, 
for his disposition was not as nice as his looks. He was 
selfish, domineering, obstinate and licentious, and Mary soon 
tired of him and turned to hate him. 

Among lier courtiers was Rizzio, the son of an Italian 
musician, who was a good musician himself and a young man 
of talent and ability. Upon him Mary bestowed the favors 
which she denied to her husband. Darnley bex^ame jealous 
and he had cause to be, for Mary and Rizzio carried on an in- 
trigue. 

I have read a great many authorities on this subject and 
I am satisfied that Mary was guilty. Many people suspected 
that Mary and Rizzio went "nest-hiding," as Henry Ward 
Beecher called it, and Darnley had his suspicions too. He 
hatched a conspiracy to assassinate Rizzio and soon after- 
ward Rizzio was stabbed and killed by noble friends of 
Darnley. The head of the House of Hepburn, the Earl of 
Bothwell, tried to save Rizzio, but in vain. Mary fell in love 
with Bothwell because he stood by her in her trouble, and 
carried on a guilty intrigue with him. She married him after 
he had her husband Darnley assassinated, by blowing him 
up with gunpowder in a house in Edinboro. 

After these events, Mary lost caste in Scotland and her 
star began to wane. Many of her subjects despised her and 
her lot became an unhappy one. She fled to England and put 
herself in the power of her rival, Queen Elizabeth, who had 
her beheaded after keeping her in prison nineteen years. 



231 

I mounted a stone stairway in tlie liallway at Ilolyrood, 
and after gaining tlie first floor, entered tlie rooms tliat liad 
been occupied by the beauteous but liapless Mary. I stepped 
into her bedcliamber, which was a mere cabinet not over 
twenty feet square, I should judge, in which stood the bed 
that had been once occupied by the beautiful queen and in 
which she lay pregnant with her son, who afterward became 
James VI of England and Scotland. 

The bed was roped in to keep visitors away, and over 
it hung a royal canopy. It was about the year 15G0 when 
Mary slept in this bed — over 350 years ago— and the quilts 
and coverlets are still there, but they are in such a sad state 
that a touch would make them crumble. A ragman would 
not give five cents for bed and all, for everything is about 
ready to fall to pieces. There is some furniture in the room, 
a mantel shelf, a picture hanging above the mantel, and a 
few toilet articles. 

Connecting with this bedroom is a secret stairway which 
leads up to the room that was once occupied by Rizzio. I 
ascended this stairway and noted how easy it was for Rizzio 
to visit Mary when he or she were so inclined. 

James VI was not born in this room but was born three 
months afterward in Edinboro Castle in a room that 1 have 
previously alluded to. 

Poor, loving, witching, erratic, beautiful Mary has thrown 
a halo of romance over Holyrood Palace which will cling to 
it always, as long as the structure lasts. 

Those who have read history have read of the Eliza- 
bethan era in England, and of Queen Elizabeth, the virgin 
queen, who was queen first and woman afterward. The re- 
Verse was the case with Mary, for Mary was the woman first 
and queen afterward. 

What a brilliant court was that of Elizabeth! Its influ- 
ence has extended to the present era, for do we not build 
houses in the Elizabethan style and have we not adopted 
customs of the Elizabethan period? Hers was a long and 
brilliant reign. Elizabeth surrounded herself with men of 



232 

great ability, such as Sir Walter Raleigh, (the Knight of the 
Cloak), the Earl of Leicester, the Earl of Sussex and others, 
whose fame will always live in history and story. Elizabeth 
was jealous of Mary because Mary was so much more beauti- 
ful than she, though Elizabeth herself was pretty and attrac- 
tive enough and accomplished in many ways. She was not 
as tall as Mary, had golden hair (some "people called it red), 
an alabaster-like complexion, pretty features but rather large 
feet and hands. She was nine years older than Mary and was 
a Protestant, whilst Mary was a Catholic. Elizabeth had 
more solidity of judgment than Mary, and was well versed 
in politics, philosophy, history, rhetoric, poetry and music. 
Besides, English, her mother tongue, she spoke and wrote 
to perfection Greek, Latin, French, Italian and Spanish. 
Mary was hardly less accomplished and her beauty threw 
a spell over everyone who approached her; the latter, Eliza- 
beth could not forgive, and this, coupled with the fact that 
Mary was of a different faith, finally led to Mary's undoing. 
She was beheaded. 

Edinboro is the seat of learning, art and music in Scot- 
land. It contains many schools and colleges, music and 
book publishing houses, and almost everyone in Edinboro 
is learned and refined. English is spoken there with a charm- 
ing Scottish accent. In Edinboro dwelt the chaps who had the 
hardihood to criticise Lord Byron's works adversely and got 
into hot water for so doing. They were heavily dealt with in 
"English Bards and Scotch Reviewers;" and have been ren- 
dered famous or infamous forever. 

Edinboro is called the Athens of the North, and justly 
so, for it is laid out on classical lines. Its public streets, 
squares and some of its public buildings off Princes street, 
are in the Athenian style and set off the city handsomely. 

I like the old part of town as a foil to the new part, but 
the old part seemed the more interesting to me. However, 
in this charming city the ancient and the modern are so 
happily blended as to render it one of the handsomest and 



233 

most interesting cities on tlie face of the globe. I have seen 
no city that I lil^e better and I have seen manj'. 

As a business place Edinboro does not amount to much, 
speaking in a comparative sense, but it contains a multitude 
of stores and business establishments, as so large a city natu- 
rally would; and it has quite a busy harbor at Leith, about a 
mile distant from the main part of the city, which is called 
"Leith Harbor." Leith at one time was a village ou the out- 
skirts of Edinboro as were Portobello and other places, but 
Edinboro has absorbed them, and now they are an integral 
part of this fair city. 



CHAPTER XXV. 
I SEEK WORK IN EDINBORO. 

I put in a whole day of sightseeing and then wandered 
toward my home on Spittal street. Wonder who gave that 
street its beautiful name? It sti-uck me as being a homely 
one and yet it is not so bad, for there is antiquity back of it. 
Some of the other streets in Edinboro are named thus: Queen 
street, Inverleith Row, York Street, Chambers street. Castle 
Terrace, The Vennel, Greyfriars, Waterloo Place, Leith Walk, 
Bruntsfield street, George IV Bridge street, Teviot Place, 
Calton Hill, Lothian Road, Palmerston Place, Castle street, 
Princes street, etc. Some of the districts and suburban places 
are named Liberton, Glencorse, Gilmerton, West Calder, 
Loanhead, Penicuik, Eskbank, Costorphine, LTphill, Joppa, 
Portobello, Musselburgh, Levenhall, etc. 

After bumming around Edinboro a few days and taking 
in hy tramcar some of the suburbs, such as Leith Harbor, 
Portobello, Joppa, Musselburgh, etc., my money began to give 
out and I concluded I would have to go to work. My heart 
sank at the idea, for I suspected that now my troubles would 
hegin. I knew nothing of the country, its ways or customs; 
I did not understand the money values, nor the business 



234 

methods, or how things were done to earn money; and I was 
shaking in my boots. But with me the anticipation is usu- 
ally worse than the reality; for when I do go at a thing, it 
is with the determination to succeed, to sink or swim, sur- 
vive or perish. I must succeed and I shall, somehow. I will 
do anything at all to earn an honest livlihood. 

Accordingly, I went forth in search of work at about 
eight o'clock one fine autumn day after I had been in Edin- 
boro about a week, and concluded to try some of the swell 
stores along Princes street, the Broadway of Edinboro. The 
first place I went into was the very fine establishment of Sir 
Thomas Lipton where the choicest of groceries and provisions 
were sold, including delicacies. In the elegant show windows 
were displayed great pasties of meat and other things, fine 
hams, bacons, cheese, high class teas, coffees, etc When I 
was directed to the manager he listened to my accent with 
a smile and assured me that he had all the help he needed. 
I got the same answer in a swell hotel farther along on that 
street. I noticed a high-toned shoe store on Princes street, 
not far from this hotel, which had a large sign over it, 'Amer- 
ican Shoe Store.''' Well, if these chaps are Americans they 
will give a countryman a lift, sure, thinks I; so into the store 
I went. 

A gentleman stepped up to me and asked me what my 
wishes would be, for he thought I came in to purchase. I 
informed him that I was an American and that the sign over 
the door had impelled me to go in. I added that I was in 
search of work. "Is this an American establishment?" asked 
I; I notice that the sign over the door says, " "American 
Shoe Store'." 

"No,"' replied he, "this shop is the branch of a London 
establishment, but we make a specialty of selling American- 
made shoes." 

I wondered at this. The gentleman casually hinted that 
no help was required. I went out much disappointed for I 
had expected to run up against countrymen. 



235 

I walked as far as Waterloo Place, which is the end of 
Princes street, and then turned down Leith Walk, a very busy 
thoroughfare, something like Eighth avenue in New York. 
It was lined along its whole length, a mile or two, on botn 
sides, with stores of all kinds, and nice ones, too. 

The British people call their stores, shops. In some 
cases that appellation is better than the American one, but 
in other cases the American designation is better, I think. 
Our dear British cousins think they are wiser than Amer- 
icans but Americans can give them a few pointers for a' that. 

I stepped into one or two stores in Leith Walk and asked 
for a position of some kind but was refused, poliitly and 
regretfully. I tried a bookbinding and printing establishment 
with the same result. I then walked down neariy the full 
length of Leith Walk and tried my luck in a coal and wood 
yard, but there was nothing doing. I was getting discouraged 
by this time and concluded to look no more for work that 
day. Instead, I went down to Leith Harbor which was close 
by and viewed the basins and shipping. There we'-e a great 
many ships of all nationalities in the harbor. 

The next day I continued my search for the privilege to 
toil. Many a place did I go into and in all of them I was 
turned down. I was given to understand in some places I 
stepped into that the Native Sons and Daughters had the 
call. They had no use for an "Incomer." "Leal to the 
Borders," was their slogan. Would I give up? Not 1. I had 
to have work and I was going to get it, too, somehow and 
somewhere. It was a case of "needcessity," I was broke. 

In one street I noticed a sign, "American Dentist." The 
sign was at the gateway of a neat looking house. The word 
"American" made me cock up my ears at once. I stepped up 
to the door and rang the bell. A servant came to the door 
and asked me whom I wished to see. "Is the dentist in?' 
enquired I. She hestiated, then replied, "I'll go and see." 

She went in and in about five minutes she returned. I 
suspected that she had sized me up and had described me to 
her master. 



236 

'"Will you be pleased to step inside?" enquired slie. I 
did so, but did not like her manner of procedure. I smelt a 
rat. I was ushered into a parlor and after a few moments 
the dentist appeared. 

He was a middle aged man, rather short and stout. After 
greetings were over I informed him what had brought me in. 
I said that I was an American and that his sign, 'American 
Dentist" had attracted me. I asked him if he was an Amer- 
ican. He told me that he was not but that he had studied 
dentistry in America. I wondered at this, but I learned after- 
wards that the American art of dentistry, is considered even 
by Europeans, to be about the best there is going, so that a 
foreigner with an American diploma is looked on with favor 
in his country. 

After foreign students have studied in Amei'ica and 
receive their diplomas, they believe they have the right to 
call themselves "American Dentists." This American den- 
tist had no work for me so I bade him adieu. 

To make a long story short I will say that two or three 
days later, after trying in vain to find something to do, I was 
walking along rather dejectedly in a populous thoroughfare 
off the Lothian Road, when I stopped in front of an art 
store to admire some pretty paintings in the window. I looked 
into the store and observed that there was no one inside 
except the proprietor himself. With a desperate sort of 
feeling I concluded to go in and strike him for a job. In I 
went and stated my errand. 

The proprietor's name was Milne and not only did he 
sell artist materials and paintings, but he was an artist him- 
self and a well known one at that. This I learned afterward. 
He was a handsome man, tall and slim, with a well shaped 
dark moustache, dreamy and soulful eyes, a well bred manner 
and a delightful way of speaking. He was a gentleman, born 
and bred, I could see. 

I had quite a chat with him. I told him that I was an 
American and that I came to Scotland to gather notes and 
that it was my intention to "print them"; but, I was out of 



237 

funds at present and needed work sadly. Without hesitation 
he offered me a position then and there, from a feeling of 
charity I have no doubt. 

He told me that he had a den at the back of his shop 
where he painted pictures, and that it was not handy for him 
to paint and wait on customers, always. He asked me if I 
were willing to wait on customers. Of course I said "yes." 
He said he would mark the goods with prices, so that I would 
have no trouble in selling them, and he requested me to call 
him into the store whenever I deemed it necessary. He offered 
me one pound ten per week, ($7.50) which was a very hand- 
some salary — for Edinboro. 

Did I accept the offer? Don't ask me such a foolish ques- 
tion. I jumped at it. I was saved; saved! Hooray! 

I held the job down all winter and saved every penny 
that I could, for it was my intention to continue ray travels 
the following spring. I informed Mr. Milne of my intentions 
and he was pleased to learn of them. He and I had many a 
talk on art, literature, poetry and kindred subjects for he had 
the artistic temperament in a high degree and was a painter 
of no mean ability, as I said before. He was good at land- 
scapes and portrait painting, but one or two of his imagina- 
tive paintings I did not admire, for they did not seem to me 
to be natural. I believe fidelity to nature ought to be the 
rule. 

However, no one can be perfect. I said to Mr. Milne one 
day, that I thought the arts were like the fingers on one's hand, 
that they are allied, and that a liking for one generally means 
a liking more or less, for them all, and he agreed with me. He 
gave me a great deal of information of the true inwardness of 
Edinboro, and I, in return answered all the questions he put to 
me to the best of my ability concerning the "States' and other 
matters. It was a pleasure to me to be the intimate of such a 
gentleman as Mr. Milne. 

The weather in Edinboro during the winter was quite 
severe (as it is everywhere else for that matter during that 
season of the year) and the "Northeasters" that swept in 



238 

from the Atlantic Ocean were fierce. They w^nt right 
through a fellow and almost froze the marrow in one's bones. 
Whew, they were icy cold! 

There were many days, too, that the people of Edinboro 
call "Grey Days," that is, when the skies were gloomy and 
the sun failed to shine. On such days Edinboi'o Castle seems 
most engaging and romantic. The Castle can be seen from 
almost any part of Edinboro as it looms up against the 
lowering skies like a fine old picture. At night, when the 
many gas jets are lit along the Castle esplanade and in the 
barrack rooms, the castle seems like a mysterious world far 
above the earth. The castle fascinates the stranger at all 
times, but the native sons and daughters don't think much 
of it, for they have been used to seeing it all their lives. In 
such a case familiarity breeds contempt. 

While working in the art store I continued to lodge with 
the Camerons on Spittal street, and put in many a happy 
evening with them. The married daughter, Violet, visited 
her folks almost every night and favored us with music. Her 
taste was consummate and her skill profound. Her music, 
lilie Bobbie Burns' poetry, came from the heart and went to 
the heart. In fact, it was more heart than art. It pleased 
me well to know (I have a soul for music myself) that Mis- 
tress Violet liked several touching and soulful American 
songs, such as, "Way down upon the Suwanee River," "Love 
Me and the World is Mine," "Massa's in the Cold, Cold 
Ground," etc. Her touch made the strings of one's heart 
vibrate and brought tears to the eyes. 

I was surrounded by music, by art, history and romance 
in Edinboro and I was happy, happy, happy! Shall I ever be 
as happy again? 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

I cannot bid Edinboro farewell without saying a little 
more about Sir Walter Scott, for this great artist spent his 
boyhood and youth in the fair city, and his memory pervades 
the place and seems to hover in its atmosphere. With Burns, 
he shares the love, admiration and reverence of a'l Scottish 
people, and of other people as well. Some like Burns best, 
whilst others like Scott, but to me it seems like trying to 
choose between two good apples of different species-each 
has a flavor of its own. 

Burns died before he had attained his thirty-eighth year, 
but Scott lived to be sixty and had a longer period in which 
to perfect himself. 

As a writer of historical romance, no writer has ever 
approached Sir Walter Scott, except, possibly, Alexander 
Dumas the elder. I think Sir Walter Scott was a master, noc 
only in prose writing, but in verse as well. His art was con- 
summate and his genius great. 

He peopled the Silent Centuries, that is to say, he threw 
upon the screen and placed vividly before us, people who had 
lived in the centuries gone by. He portrayed the barbaric 
ages, the middle ages and his contemporary age, and he has 
revealed to all future ages the manners and customs of the 
past. 

He has held up to us as in a mirror the personality of 
kings, queens and courtiers, and of people in all the various 
walks of life. He makes these people speak as naturally as 
thev would talk were they alive; he shows us how they 
dressed, ate, sang, loved, hated, intrigued and moved about 
on the stage of life. Thus he portrayed Saxon and German, 



240 

English and Scotch subjects, faithfully and truly. His mind, 
like that of Dumas, was a library of history, and he was a 
great scholar. That his mind was of a legal cast was plainly 
to be seen, yet he excelled in every thing he undertook. 

There is no writer living today who can place a king 
before us as he was, though many writers have tried to and 
are trying today. It is a difficult task. It requires a master- 
hand to do it; a collosal, an extraordinary genius. There 
have been imitators of such men as Scott, but sad to relate 
such masters are not born every century. For some occult 
reason the Creator does not put such men on the earth every 
day. 

Men like Scott, lead; others follow. Masters like Scott, 
are original, they have the gift to judge aright, and of seeing 
things as they are or were. To illustrate: 

Have you read "Kenilworth," by Sir Walter Scott? Sir 
Walter was Scottish, yet he poi'trays English people to the 
life. He portrayed Queen Elizabeth and her Court in this 
novel in a manner to put all the personages before you just 
as they were. Thus he throws the Earl of Leicester on the 
screen vividly; Amy Robsart, Varney the tool of Leicester, 
the father of Amy, the Earl of Sussex and many other noble- 
men, including "The Knight of the Cloak" (Sir Walter 
Raleigh) ; and a host of other characters. As we read we 
can see and understand their ways and habit of thought. 
They are made to move, act and speak as if they were alive. 
Not only did Sir Walter create all his characters, but he 
created also a style of art of his own which was successful, 
because it was simple, direct and appealed to the people. It 
won success for him, and success always brings imitators, 
but the imitator is not usually equal to the master. This 
truism applies not only to literature but to music, the drama, 
the arts, the sciences, commercial affairs and all the various 
pursuits in life. Genius leads; ability follows. 

A critic, who may or may not be discriminating, had this 
to say of Sir Walter Scott's poetry: 



241 

"The distinctive features of the poetry of Scott are ease, 
rapidity of movement, a spirited flow of narrative that holds 
our attention, an out-of-door atmosphere and power of natural 
description, an occasional intrusion of a gentle personal sad- 
ness and but little more. The subtle and mystic element so 
characteristic of the poetry of Wordsworth and Coleridge is 
not to be found in Scott, while in lyrical power he does not 
approach Shelley. (As I have not read or studied Sir Walter 
Scott's poetry much, I cannot vouch for the latter statement 
as being true. — Windy Bill). We find instead an intense sense 
of reality in all his natural descriptions; it surrounds them 
with an indefinable atmosphere, because they are so trans- 
parently true. (That seems like truth to me, for Scott, like 
all great artists, was true to nature. — Windy Bill.) 

"Scott's first impulse in the direction of poetry was given 
to him from the study of the German ballads, especially Bur- 
ger's Lenore, of which he made a translation. As his ideas 
widened, he wished to do for Scottish Border life what Goethe 
had done for the ancient feudalism of the Rhine. He was 
at first undecided whether to choose prose or verse as the 
medium; but a legend was sent him by the Countess of Dal- 
keith with a request that he would put it in ballad form. 
Having thus the framework of his purpose, he went to work, 
and 'The Lay of the Last Ministrel' was the result. The 
battle scene in Marmion has been called the most Homeric 
passage in modern literature, and his description of the battle 
of Beal au Duine from 'The Lady of the Lake' is an exquisite 
piece of narration from the gleam of the spears in the 
thicket to the death of Roderick Dhu at its close. In the 
deepest sense Scott is one with the spirit of his time in his 
grasp of fact, in that steadily looking at the object which 
Wordsworth had fought for in poetry, which Carlyle had 
advocated in philosophy. (Why, sure, Scott grasped fact; 
had he not done so he would not have been the artist he was; 
fact is stranger than fiction. — Windy Bill). He is allied, too, 
to that broad sympathy for man which lay closest to the heart 
of the age's literary expression. Wordsworth's part is to 



242 

inspire an interest in the lives of men and women about us; 
Scott's to enlarge our sympathy beyond the bounds of the 
present, and to people the silent centuries. Shelley's inspira- 
tion is hope for the future; Scott's is reverence for the past." 

Sir Walter was a man who was well liked and his friends 
were numerous. He married, had a family and Kept open 
house in Edinboro, at Ashestiel and at Abbotsford, where he 
resided successively. Among his friends — the whole world 
admired him — was George Tichnor, the author, who declared 
that Scott repeated to him the English translations of two 
long Spanish ballads which he had never seen, but which had 
been read to him twice. 

John Irving, a college friend of Sir Walter's writing of 
himself and Scott, said: "The number of books we thus 
devoured was very great. I forgot a great part cf what I 
read; but my friend, notwithstanding he read with suca 
rapidity, remained, to my surprise, master of it all, and 
could even, weeks and months afterwards, repeat a whole 
page in which anything had particularly struck him at the 
moment." 

Our own countryman, Washington Irving, who was a 
contemporary of Sir Walter, enjoyed the hospitality of Sir 
Walter's home and they became friends. Irving, among other 
things, had this to say about Scott and his visit: "During 
the time of my visit he inclined to the comic rather than to 
the grave in his anecdotes and stories; and such, I was told, 
was his general inclination. He relished a joke or a ti'ait of 
humor in -social intercourse, and laughed with right good 
will. . . . His humor in conversation as in his works, was 
genial and free from causticity. He had a quick perception 
of faults and foibles, but he looked upon human nature with 
an indulgent eye, relishing what was good and pleasant, tol- 
erating what was frail and pitying what was evil I do 

not recollect a sneer throughout his conversation, any more 
than there is throughout his works." 

Our countryman, our own Washy, had written some good 
books himself, but the American people held him lightly and 



243 

did not think much of his work. Like some of our critics 
of today they thought that "The American Novel," had not 
yet been written and tliat no American author was capable o" 
achieving great results. Sir Walter Scott undeceived these 
people. His great genius could fathom the great genius of 
our countryman, so he became a sponsor for Washington 
Irving and told the world it ought to be ashamed of itseif 
not to recognize merit of so high an order, whereupon the 
world began to think there was something in Irving after all. 

I say to you, my countrymen, that Washington Irving 
was the peer of any writer who ever lived, barring no one, 
for "grasp of fact,' truth, realism was his theme, and, like 
Sir Walter Scott, he clothed his ideas in an original garb of 
his own. Irving was a great artist as well as a profound 
genius. No wonder Sir Walter Scott thought it a shame that 
such worth should not be recognized. 

Irving is coming into his own, though, for as time rolls on, 
he is becoming more and more popular. 

Notwithstanding the fact that Lord Byron so lampooned 
Sir Walter Scott in his "English Bards and Scotch Review- 
ers," Sir Walter Scott was too noble to bear malice and the 
two became friends. Byron visited Sir Walter and afterward 
wrote the following: "I think that Scott is the only very suc- 
cessful genius that could be cited as being as generally be- 
loved as a man as he is admired as an author; and I must 
add, he deserves it, for he is so thoroughly good natured, 
sincere and honest that he disarms the envy and jealousy 
his extraordinary genius must excite." 

Byron says that Scott's genius was "extraordinary,' and 
it was so. Byron was a judge, and praise from Sir Hubert is 
praise indeed. 

Leslie Stephen, another friend of Sir Walter, said this 
of him: "Scott could never see an old tower, or a bank, -ov 
a rush of a stream without instantly recalling a boundless 
collection of appropriate anecdotes. He might be quoted as 
a case in point by those who would explain all poetical imagi- 



244 

nation by the power of associating ideas. He is the 'Poet of 
Association'." 

Loclihart married tlie daughter of Sir Walter Scott and 
wrote a vohiminous biography of his great father-in-law, but, 
as a rule, I don't much fancy biographies written by relatives, 
although Lockhart's was a painstaking one. Such biographies 
are not usually impartial. I will quote the following from 
Lockhart's biography of Scott: 

"The love of his (Sir Walter's) country became inutod a 
passion; no knight ever tilted for his mistress more willingly 
than he would have bled and died to preserve even the airiest 
surviving nothing of her antique pretensions for Scotland. 
But the Scotland of his affections had the clan "Scott" for 
her kernal." 

I don't believe any such thing. I do not believe Scott 
was so narrow minded as that. I know that he tooiv a great 
pride in his ancestry but he loved Scotland with a devotion 
and loyalty that never faltered. Not only did his writings 
ennoble Scotland, but Sir Walter proved his love for his 
country in other ways, as every intelligent Scot knows. For 
instance, he had old Mons Meg restored to Scotland, and that 
was only one proof of his affection for his native land. There 
are other things he did which I could cite but need not do so. 

Thomas Carlyle, the philosopher, was a warm friend and 
admirer of Sir Walter Scott. Carlyle was a clever and pain- 
staking author, the writer of a careful and excellent history 
of the French Revolution, and of other works of merit, such 
as, "Sartor Resartos," and he gave Sir Walter a quaint cer- 
tificate of character which I shall quote. 

"The surliest critic must allow that Scott was a genuine 
man, which in itself is a great matter. No affectation, fan- 
tasicality or distortion dwelt in him; no shadow of cant. Nay, 
withal, was he not a right brave and strong man according 
to his kind? What a load of toil, what a measure of felicity 
he quietly bore along with him. With what quiet strength he 
both worked on this earth and enjoyed in it, invincible to evil 
fortune and to good." 



245 

Robert Burns came to Edinboro on a visit "wlien Sir 
Walter was only fifteen years of age, but Sir Walter's admira- 
tion for the National Bard was great and became greater as 
time rolled on, when he understood Burns' writings better. 
He wrote much concerning Burns, mostly magazine articles, 
but I believe he also wrote a biography. Of this, I am not 
sure. I believe some articles written by Scott for the Quai'- 
terly Review were afterward put in book form. 

James Ballentyne, who printed Sir Walter's books, be- 
came a friend of Sir Walter and a partner, afterward, in the 
publishing business. The partnership turned out disastrous. 

Thomas Campbell, author of "The Pleasures of Hope," 
was a warm friend of Sir Walter's; and so was William 
W^ordsworth, the poet. Robert Southey, the poet, visited Sir 
Walter at Ashestiel and was heartily welcomed. Joanna 
Baillie, the poetess, was much admired by Sir Walter; and 
so was Sir Humphrey Davy, the philosopher, who often visited 
Sir Walter. 

Sir Walter was a warm friend and admirer of the great 
German poet, Goethe. A greater poet than Goethe never 
lived, and I do believe that he inspired more writers than any 
other great master who ever lived. The English speaking 
races have produced no greater poet than he. 

But why continue this recital of Sir Walter's merits, 
his doings, sayings, and his friends? He was a Scot, yet 
a master in English historical novel writing. The clever 
critic whose criticism of Sir Walter's poetry I reproduced m 
this chapter mentioned one passage in Sir Walter's poem, 
the Marmion battle scene, as being "the most Homeric in 
modern literature." Why, Homer was not in it with Scott. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

STIRLING CASTLE. 

It was spring time once more when the blood begins to 
turn rosy red, when the mind lightly turns to thoughts of love 
and when warmed-up nature begins to put on her newest and 
freshest dress. 

On a fine morning at this season I bade my Edinboro 
friends a reluctant adieu and took the choo-choo ca.'s for the 
city of Stirling, which is about an hour's ride by rail from 
Edinboro and about half an hour's ride from Glasgow. Stir- 
ling is about thirty miles from Glasgow and about fifty miles 
from Edinboro. 

I bought a third class ticket from Edinboro to Stirling 
and enjoyed the railroad ride, sitting on cushions, very much. 
It beat riding the rods or brakebeam a whole lot. When I 
arrived in Stirling I felt new and strange for a few moments 
but I soon got my bearings. 

Stirling is a charming little city containing 20,000 inhabi- 
tants and is situated in a pretty valley surrounded by moun- 
tains. It IS a tourist town, for it contains Stirling Castle, 
and is situated about a mile or so from the field of Bannock- 
burn, where a great battle was fought several centuries ago. 
Coal mines in the vicinity contribute to its support and render 
it a distribution point. There are a multitude of stores in 
the place, a covered shopping arcade where people can shop 
in all weathers, a maze of winding streets, courts, wynds and 
alleys, and it bears a medieval aspect. In its delightful sub- 
urbs nestle a number of pretty and secluded villas embowered 
in spacious domains. The whole place is a study in the 
Antique and Beautiful. 



247 

I leisurely walked through the little city, viewing the 
arcades and the well stocked shops in which there were a 
large variety of goods. The storekeepers could tell that I 
was a stranger as soon as they clapt eyes on me, and probably 
they wondered if I were going to buy anything. For strangers, 
there were view postcards in the shops, souvenir books, canes, 
shawls and many other pretty articles, but as it was iny in- 
tention to remain in Stirling a week, I did not care to buy any- 
thing just then. Instead, I did the town thoroughly and then 
went on a still hunt for a furnished room. I inquired the 
price for room and board in an old fashioned hotel and the 
landlord told me that as things was rather quiet in town 
just then he could accommodate me for $2.-50 per dav or $15.00 
per week. That charge was reasonable enough, but it was 
beyond my means. After a long search I secured a room 
in a coal miner's family for a dollar per week without board, 
of course. I had to rustle up my own grub, but that was 
easy, for I had the price in my pocket. 

Before ten in the morning, I had secured and paid for my 
room and was off and away on a walk to see the castle. 

Stirling Castle stands on an eminence within the pre- 
cincts of the city and the height on which it stands is con- 
siderably higher than the one on which Edinboro Castle 
stands; it therefore commands a wider sweep of the surround- 
ing country. The hill or mountain on which the castle is 
perched is wooded at the base, forming a handsome park 
which is utilized a great deal by the inhabitants of Stirling 
in the summer time. The park contains many fine old shade 
trees and is a pretty and romantic spot. A well made, broad 
pathway winds up the mountain to the castle, but long before 
it reaches the castle it becomes intricate, so that it is difficult 
to find the proper route to the castle. Shacks and lanes 
extend along on the mountainside, and all the little stone 
houses are inhabited. They do not need the protection of 
the castle these days for there is no foe to harm them, 
forays and assaults being a thing of the past. In this year 
of grace, 1913, everything looks serene on the horizjn. 



248 

A troop of children followed me as I walked up the steep 
street, discerning at a glance that I was a stranger, and after 
they had satisfied their curiosity about me, an elderly lady 
admonished them to "come awa wi ye; gae hame, the noo," 
whereupon they scattered. 

I came upon the esplanade of the castle and then saun- 
tered through the gate into the castle yard. In every way 
this castle was as great a one as that at Edinboro, but it 
seemed to me to be more ancient than the present structure 
at Edinboro, although the latter stands as it was in Queen 
Mary's time, which was in 1550 or thereabout. 

Stirling Castle was first built in remote ages and was 
probably destroyed and rebuilt several times, but the last 
time it was erected must have been far earlier than 1550, 
for as soon as I looked at it I came to that conclusion. It 
has a moat, drawbridge, towers and flanking towers; a cita- 
del, barracks and all the other appurtenances of a feudal 
stronghold, but all the buildings, walls and facade of the 
castle proper show that they are of rare antiquity, for, though 
still solid and substantial they are black with age and moss- 
grown, and breathe of mustiness and decay. Statues standing 
in niches along the castle facade have turned black and are 
undecipherable, for the human figures they represent liave 
lost the outline of their faces and limbs and it is difficult to 
discern whom or what they represented. None of the rooms 
in the castle are inhabited or even furnished, for the warders 
in charge live in modern tenements in the castle yard, close 
by, as does the lady who sells souvenirs in the castle to 
visitors. 

I had quite a chat with this lady, and I bantered her a 
little, telling her that Stirling Castle did not seem to me to 
be as fine a one as Edinboro Castle; whereat she became 
indignant. She seemed to be a lady and was loyal to Stirling 
and its castle. 

In barbaric ages a mere wide earthen wall was buiU 
around a group of huts, which in centuries succeeding was 
improved upon by using trunks of trees and rough stonework 



249 

for the foundation and filling in the spaces With earth. After 
a time wooden forts were reared of heavy logs and beams. 
Later on the castles were made of stone, solid and substan- 
tial, with walls many feet thick. A great many of the latter 
kind of structures still stand in European countries, testify- 
ing by their solidity and strength how clever the architects 
and builders were. The statues, though seem rather crude, 
yet it is hardly fair to judge at this late day. These were my 
thoughts as I regarded the 'ancient stronghold. I regarded 
it with reverence and awe. The main living hall in Stirling 
Castle, which afterward became the banquet hall, today is 
bare, gloomy and vast. Many a feast was held in it and these 
feasts have been well described in historical romances. They 
consisted usually of a first course of the portions ol a deer, 
a quarter of a bear, the shoulder of a wild boar, or a course 
of roasted peacocks and swans. A second course consisted 
of poultry, pheasants and pigeons; a third of small game and 
meat patties; a fourth of shad, salmon, mullet and eel pie, 
the last an especial favorite. For desert all sorts o! pastries 
and sweetmeats were served; then cloves, ginger and spices. 
The last course made people so thirsty that it drove them 
to drink and they would quaff big cups of wine mixed with 
honey or spice. Of course such spreads were for the noble 
or wealthy, but the poor had to go hungry to bed. Do we 
live much different in these days? We live even better, it 
seems to me. We have bear, deer and other game; and many 
varieties of fish and shell fish; a certain wine appropriate to 
each course is served; and a vast variety of poultry, wild 
game, meats, etc., are put on the board, as are pies, cakes, 
tarts, puddings, ice creams, water ices, fruits, melons, nuts, 
raisins, cheese, etc. It seems to me the old timers hardly 
knevv^ what good living was. 

I went upon the ramparts of the castle and had a look 
around. What a view met my gaze! Far, far down below was 
the city and plain; around were mountains and .n the dis- 
tance a plain in which the field of Bannockburn is comprised. 



250 

At the historic battle of Bannockburn an infe>'ior body 
of Scots put to route a vast army of English, who had come 
to capture Scotland. Bruce was in command of the Scots 
and he ordered that pits be dug in the field so that the Eng- 
lish cavalry horses would drop into them and become helpless. 
This strategy won the day, for the troopers became as power- 
less as their horses after they had fallen into the pits, and 
vast confusion resulted, ending in a total defeat and rout of 
the English. 

Everyone, probably, has read Robert Burns' poem, "Bruce 
at Bannockburn." If not, I will reprint it here: 

Scots, wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled, 
Scots, whom Bruce has often led, 
Welcome to your gory bed. 
Or to glorious victorie! 

Now's the day and now's the hour; 
See the front o' battle lower; 
See approach proud Edward's power — 
Edward! chains and slaveriel 

Wha will be a traitor; knave? 
Wha can fill a coward's grave? 
Wha sae base as be a slave? 

Traitor! Coward! Turn and flee! 

Wha for Scotland's king and law 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw. 
Freemen stand or freemen fa' 
Caledonian on wi' me! 

By oppression's woes and pains! 
By your sons in servile chains! 
We will drain our dearest veins, 

But thev shall — they shall be free. 



Lay the proud usurper low! 
Tyrants fall in every foe! 
Liberty's in every blow! 

Forward! — Let us do or die! 



251 

Stirling Castle has a history of its own, and a long and a 
great one at that. The reader will remember that I slated, 
that Mary, Queen of Scots was delivered of a son in Edin- 
burgh Castle about three months after the assassination of 
Rizzio in Holyrood Palace. After Mary's son was born, (he 
afterward became James VI of England and Scotland), she 
journeyed with her babe to Stirling Castle where the chris- 
tening took place amid great rejoicing. Stirling Castle saw 
some stirring events that day. 

Many a joust and tournament took place at Stirling 
Castle, and for centuries it was the stronghold of the Douglas' 
family, which was one of royal ancestry. There were the 
Black Douglas, the Red Douglas, and a Douglas of every kind 
and degree. One of the Black Douglases was a celebrated 
warrior who had rather fight than eat. His prowess was so 
great that he was famed the world over, and many a puis- 
sant knight rode up to have a little scrap with him. The 
Black Douglas, a grim, austere chap, was always willing to 
oblige and generally laid his adversary low. 

James V of Scotland, (Queen Mary of Scots' father), 
had a mistress who was pretty, and she had by him a son. 
The king was delighted and intended to marry her, for she 
was of high birth; but scandalous tales told to him changed 
his mind. 

The king induced the Earl of Douglas to marry the lady 
and he was nothing loth, nor was the lady; for by this mar- 
riage they would both have the king's favor. This same lady, 
twenty-five or thirty years afterward, became the gaoler of 
Queen Mary, at Lochleven Castle. Bitterly did these two proud 
and. noble ladies hate each other. Their loves and hates are 
well described in Sir Walter Scott's novel, "The Abbott," and 
in Alexandre Dumas, Sr's., history of Queen Mary of Scots. 

I visited Stirling Castle several times and always walked 
slowly back and forth along the wide and roomy ramparts 
gazing at the historic scenes and surroundings, and thinking 
thoughts unutterable. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 
PERTH, DUNDEE, ARBROATH. 

After leaving Stirling I went to the city of Perth which 
lies to the northeast of Stirling, sixty miles or so. It was my 
intention to remain in Perth about a week, to do the city 
thoroughly, to become acquainted with the people, and take 
voluminous notes; but I did not stick to my resolution for 
"severial" reasons, as the fellow says. 

Possibly you may have read Sir Walter Scott's novel, 
"Fair Maid of Perth." The maids in Perth may be fair, but 
the city is not. It is a fairly large city but ancient, sombre 
and grimy and it did not impress me much nor did the people. 

Perth is a quaint and ancient place full of narrow and 
dismal streets that appeal to the lover of the antique, but 
the people in that city are a clannish set and have nc use 
for strangers. They regarded me with lowering brows, and 
when I called at several houses in quest of a furnished room 
I got a cold reception. The living apartments in these houses 
were all reached through a dark and gloomy close and by 
means of narrow, spiral stairways which got me tired. 

The day of my arrival there happened to be a dull grey 
one, and maybe this fact depressed my spirits; however, I 
concluded within an hour that I would not remain in Perth 
any longer than necessary and took the next train out. As I 
saw little of the place and did not familiarize myself with it 
I can say little about it. I did notice though that Perth is the 
headquarters of the Black Watch Regiment, the 42fl High- 
landers, which is so famous in song and story, and so ancient 
and valiant. The Black Watch has a history to be proud of 
and though hundreds of years old its organization is still 
kept up. There are. some well known dyeing establishments 



253 

in Perth, which are well known throughout Great Britain, 
for the good work they do. That is about all I know of Perth. 
I did not look for Hal o' the Wynd's blacksmith sh^p, or the 
saddlery shop of Simon Glover, father of the " Fair Maid of 
Perth." I don't suppose I would have found them, anyway, 
had I looked for them. 

Dundee was my next stopping place. This is a large sea- 
port town at the north eastern part of Scotland, along the 
North Sea. It is noted for its jute, hemp, marmalade and 
fisheries. It is a port of some consequence and is a manufac- 
turing city with no pretensions to beauty. I was told the 
following facts by several persons about Dundee, which may 
or may not be true. They said that the manufacturing estab- 
lishments employ girls and women mostly, and that therefore 
the female population of Dundee far outnumbers the male. 
As a consequence several girls club together and employ a 
man to do the household work at their home, while they are 
at work in the factories. The male domestic is the Boss of 
the Harem. Whether this is idle gossip or not I cannot say, 
but when so many people tell the same story there may be 
some truth in it. As I found nothing very attractive in Dundee 
I did not remain there long, yet it is a quaint and interesting 
city for all that, and if one has business there or becomes 
acquainted one might as well be found dead there as any- 
where else. It is not much of a show place, though, or espec- 
ially attractive to the stranger. 

Arbroath was my next jumping off place. This is a city 
in Forfarshire containing 25,000 inhabitants, and lying a short 
distance north of Dundee on the North Sea. It is the pret- 
tiest and snuggest little place I had seen since leaving Stir- 
ling. Have you ever heard of the Arbroath bloaters? It is 
here that they come from and as I remained in Arbroath 
quite a while — several weeks — I saw how the fish are cured. 
They are hung up and smoked, that is all. If any secret 
process is used, an outsider is not shown it or told of it. And 
yet, the Arbroath bloaters have such a distinct and excellent 



254 

flavor that they are famous the world over and are shipped 
everywhere. 

The people of Arbroath are as nice as one will find any- 
where. They are hospitable, generous and free-hearted and 
will try to make you feel right at home with them, at least, 
that was my experience. I believe in stating facts only. 

The city lies along the seacoast and is very interesting, 
I think. Along its waterfront there extends a wide and thick 
stone seawall which prevents the stormy billows from rolling 
in and inundating the town. Part of this seawall is left open 
so that water can run into landlocked basins, in which the 
fishing boats and all other vessels can ride in safety. At the 
open part of the seawall there stands a snug lighthouse which 
I visited many a time, to chat with the lighthouse keeper, who 
was a bluff, hearty man and had formerly been a sailor. 

The streets are the cutest and quaintest I ever saw, 
There is the inevitable High street, which tv/ists around the 
town like a corkscrew, rare old public squares, a cosy public 
library, a multitude of shops and an historic old a:>bey that 
the Arbroath folk take a great pride in and swear by. 

The abbey covers several acres of ground, is enclosed by 
an immensely thick wall, and in early days was the residence 
of royalty as well as of the highest church dignitaries. 
Within the enclosure, which long was presided over by abbots, 
there are the ecclesiastical buildings, the residence and 
dormitories of the numerous churchmen, kitchens, stables, 
etc.; and in fact, the place was a hamlet in itself. But time 
has dealt with it hardly. Nearly all the buildings are gone, 
the walls are rotting away, and there remains only the 
grounds which are kept in good order. The abbey is so old 
that its origin is shrouded in mystery. In the public library 
at Arbroath I took up a thick and heavy volume which con- 
tained a detailed history of the abbey, that was voluminous 
and interesting; but I can not go into it here. I took up my 
abode with a large and interesting family in Arbroath who 
made me feel at home. They were charming and hospitable. 



255 

Scotland is comparatively a small country, containing 
many cities, towns and villages, which lie close togethei. Jt 
is a fairly populous country, but not as much so as it wa«, 
for many have emigrated, and to show how keen competition 
in trade and business is, I will give a partial list of the busi- 
ness establishments maintained in Arbroath, a city of some- 
what less than 25,000 inhabitants. I copied the list from the 
Arbroath city directory: 

"There are three aerated water manufacturies; eight cycle 
agents; one emigrant agent; two architects; six photo artists; 
seven auctioneers and valuators; six baby linen warehouses; 
nine bakeries; eight bankers; two bill posters; twenty black- 
smiths; four bleachers; two bobbin manufacturers; fifteen 
booksellers and stationers; thirty-six boot and shoe makers; 
one brewer; eight brokers; six ship brokers; six builders; 
three cab proprietors; four upholsterers and cabinet makers; 
four carriers and contractors; six chemists and dugglsts; six 
chimney sweepers; ten glassware dealers; forty confection- 
ers; one cooper; two dentists; twenty-five drapers; two dyers; 
six engineers; seven fancy warehouses; one farina manufac- 
turer; five fish curers; nine fishmongers; twelve flax spinners; 
seventeen fleshers; fourteen fruiterers and green grocers; 
eight funeral undertakers; 100 grocers; thirteen hairdressers; 
seven hotels; six ironmongers; twelve joiners; twelve laun- 
dries; twelve millinery establishments; one motor garage; 
three newspapers; nine saddleries; six sail cloth manufac- 
turers; a Singer sewing machine factory; three employment 
oflJices; eighteen solicitors; forty-four spirit dealers; twenty 
tailors and clothiers; six tanners and curriers; thirteen tobac- 
conists; four umbrella makers; four waste dealers, etc." 

Quoting the directory, also: 

"Arbroath is a Royal and Parliamentary burgh, seat of a 
small debt court and a thriving seaport. It contains an an- 
cient abbey whose ruins attract many visitors. The harbor 
has been greatly improved of late; etc." 

After leaving Arbroath I went to Montrose, a town of 
about 15,000 inhabitants, lying along the seacoast a few miles 



256 

north of Arbroath; and there I received such a frigid reception 
by people who did not like strangers, that I became disheart- 
ened and disgusted, and shook the town just as soon as I pos- 
sibly could. Some people may think that I am romancing or 
that I am captious or prejudiced, but the following extracts 
from a Scottish newspaper may undeceive them: — 

"Incomer is the Border term for Outlander or Alien and 
once an Incomer always an Incomer, is the inflejMble rule. 

"Come from where you will in all the wide world and set- 
tle down anywhere betwixt Peebles and Hawick, and you will 
soon be made aware of the pitying contempt which is be- 
stowed on anyone who has had the misfortune to be born be- 
yond the boundaries of the hallowed province. 'Leal to the 
Borders' is a phrase which never fails to raise the enthusiasm 
of any gathering of Borderers, and the loyalty is, or pretends 
to be, of that blind kind which must add to its fervour by de- 
nying all other parts of the world. 

"There are many kinds of patriotism and the Borderers' 
patriotism may be roughly defined thus: he believes the Em- 
pire to be the grandest the world has known; Britain to be the 
best part of the Empire; Scotland to be the finest part of 
Britain; the Borders incomparably the most magnificent por- 
tion of Scotland; and his own particular town the centre of 
all the concentrated excellencies of imperial and national life. 
For him Galashiels or Selkirk, or Hawick — as the case may be 
— is the very hub of the universe. Throughout his life and even 
when his looks grow lyart he holds firmly to the belief, sung 
of by Hogg in his Farewell to Ettrick — 

'There first I saw the rising morn; 
'There first my infant mind unfurled, 
'To ween that spot where I was born 
'The very centre of the world.' " 

But enough of such matters. When I got the frozen stave 
and the marble heart I began to 'feel that I had better pull up 
stakes and go elsewhere. If people don't like me I can go back 
into the woods. It had been my intention to go to Inverness, 



257 

the capital of the Highlands, and thence down the West coast 
of Scotland where some of the prettiest and wildest scenery 
in Scotland may be encountered; but maybe I might have got 
a worse reception from the Highlanders than I did from the 
Lowlanders, so I deemed it best to take no chances. 

Thereupon I resolved to return by rail at once to Glasgow 
and to take boat thence to Belfast, in Ireland, which I did. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

OFF FOR IRELAND. 

Stranger, did you ever hear of the Blarney Stone in Ire- 
land, and did you ever read the poem referring to it, which 
runs thus: — 

The groves of Blarney 
They are so charming 
Down by the purling 

Of sweet, silent streams; 
Being banked by posies 
That spontaneous grow there 
Planted in order 

By the sweet rock close. 

And there is a stone there, 
That whoever kisses, 
Oh, he never misses. 

To grow eloquent; 
Sure 'tis he may clamber 
To my lady's chamber 
Or, become a member 

Of Parliament. 



258 

A clever spouter 
He'll sure turn out, or 
An Out and Outer, 

To be let alone; 
Don't hope to hinder him 
Or to bewilder him — 
Sure, he's a pilgrim 

From the Blarney Stone. 

Did you ever see a sweet, silent stream that went on purl- 
ing? I never did. 

If posies were planted in order by the sweet rock close, 
would they have grown there spontaneously? Only in Ireland. 

And if a fellow kisses a certain stone would he never iail 
to grow eloquent? To be sure he would not fail. 

And if he kissed that stone would he be allowed to clam- 
ber into my lady's chamber without getting fired out? 

And would he be sure to become a member of Parliament? 
Why, certainly; theie can be no doubt about that. 

"Don't hope to hinder him, or to bewilder him, for he is a 
pilgrim from the Blarney Stone." 

Do you see the subtle wit, the refined raillery, of this fa- 
mous poem? Only a clever and witty Irishman could have 
written it, and it was written by an Irishman, Shenstone, 1 
believe. The educated Irish are naturally witty and clever, 
and I am now going to Ireland to see them. 

Don't you envy me? Wouldn't you like to have gone with 
me? Poor, dear, old Ireland! thy trials and tribulations have 
been many, yet almost everyone loves thee, and hopes thou 
wilt see better days. I love thee and thy warm-hearted people 
and wish thee good luck. 

After leaving the inhospitable town of northern Scotland 
behind me, I was whisked in a railroad train to Glesgie once 
more, and that very evening one of the Burns' line of steamers 
that ply between Glasgow, Scotland, and Belfast, Ireland, bore 
me to the shores of the Emerald Isle. The Burns' line 
steamers are named Vampire, Viper, Scorpion, Tarantula, etc.. 



259 

and they are pretty and swift black little steamers that can 
go like a streak when the water of the Irish Sea is not too 
rough; and they are neat and comfortable with all. I traveled 
steerage, of course, for my means were limited, but the trip is 
a short one of a few hours duration only, down the pictur- 
esque Clyde, past shipyards on both sides of the river, past the 
Isle of Bute and then the Isle of Arran, south, toward Belfast. 
The boat left the Broomielaw in Glasgow at about eight p. m, 
and before the dawn of the following morning she was an- 
chored safely and securely at her pier in Belfast. I was up 
and out of my bunk as she was made fast, for I wanted to get 
a glimpse of Ireland as soon as possible. 

The boat had sped through Belfast Lough long before the 
dawn, but as I did not believe that the shores of Ireland could 
be seen at that time of day, I did not go on deck. 

What were my feelings when I set foot on Irish soil? 

Well, I can hardly describe them. I was elated yet calm, 
for what is the use of getting too much excited over anything? 
I had heard of Ireland, dreamed of it, seen pictures of it, and 
had seen Irish people by the million in my own country, but 
here was the real thing before me. Sister Anne, am I sleeping 
or waking? Give me a good hard pinch, will you? Wake me 
up; it is early in the day, anyway, and I need an eye opener. 

No one on the boat told me to go ashore, but I did not 
have to be told, even if it was not yet five o'clock in the -morn- 
ing. The wharf that we were anchored at was a covered one, 
not very long, it is true, but neat and well paved, and pretty 
well piled up with merchandise. The wharf lies along the 
River Lagan which empties into Belfast Lough (or bay). 

I walked down the gangplank sedately, thinking I don't 
know what. No one was at work yet, not even the stevedores, 
for it was far too early. I stepped out of the shed into the 
silent and deserted streets and then I saw things, things that 
reminded me of scenes I had observed painted on curtains 
and on drop scenes in theatres at home. 

Can this be Ireland? Why, surely it is. There can be no 
mistake about it. Observe those Irish houses there will you, 



260 

with their neat stone fronts and their sloping roofs with cliim- 
neys topped by numerous tiles. 

Why, they exude Hibernianism and they make me feel 
like sititng down to write some nice poetry, but Tom Moore's 
would so eclipse mine that I think I had better refrain. 

The streets near the water front were wide and well 
paved, and I wandered along the more prominent ones. I 
came upon a square, and then upon the Albert Memorial which 
stands at the foot of High street. So, then, Irish towns have 
their High street as well as Scottish towns? That is worth 
remembering. But now the High street was deserted; there 
was no traffic on it; it was too early. On either side of the 
street, which was a broad one, were ranged high-class stores 
and shops, and a double line of car tracks ran through it. for 
tramcars evidently, and doubledeckers at that. 

Further along I came upon Donegall Place and then upon 
Royal avenue, both of which are wide thoroughfares that are 
flanked by elegant stores. Why, I had always heard that Ire- 
land was a poor, distressed country; but a fellow can't believe 
half that he hears. No evidence of poverty or distress was 
here. On the contrary, everything seemed prosperous. Why 
should Ireland have been slandered? It is a fine, rich country, 
as fine as any; and all it needs is liberty, fraternity and equal- 
ity to make it great. 

I took a good, long walk over many parts of Belfast, and 
found the city in all respects modern, up-to-date, clean, neat 
and well paved; with districts containing quaint, old-fash- 
ioned houses, the like of which I had never seen before. I fell 
in love with the place and felt that I could be happy there had 
I had the wherewithal to keep me a-going; but I had not, and 
in fact I had so little money remaining by this time that my 
heart sank, for I imagined there would be trouble and disasters 
for me before long. But what is the use of anticipating 
trouble? I was not broke just yet. "Sufficient unto the day is 
the evil thereof." 

Belfast is a commercial city, the largest in Ireland. What 
Glasgow is to Scotland, Belfast is to Ireland, the metropolis. 



2G1 

Dublin is the show place of Ireland, and its capital, as Edin- 
burgh is Scotland's show place and capital. Dublin has about 
the same number of inhabitants as Edinburgh, but Belfast has 
only about 350,000 people, whilst Glasgow has nearly a million. 
A whole lot of shipbuilding is done along the River Lagan at 
Belfast, but as a port or commercial centre, Belfast at the 
present time cannot begin to compare with Glasgow. Some 
day in the future Ireland may have Home Rule and then her 
population will increase and her industries expand. 

Let me give a brief history of Belfast, which I have bor- 
rowed for the occasion: — • 

"Although it is not claimed for Belfast that her rank in 
historic association equals that of her sister city .of Dublin, it 
is an indisputable fact that as a great commercial city, also as 
a maritime port and a hive of enterprising industry, Belfast 
holds the front and the most important place of any town in 
Ireland. It is the capital of Ulster, the County Town of An- 
trim and on both sides of the River Lagan, which discharges 
itself into Belfast Lough (Bay), an extensive inlet from the 
Irish Channel. Although noticed in the old histories of thvi 
country as existing as far back as the middle of the twelfth 
century, the town is, practically speaking, of comparatively 
recent date, but it has well earned the reputation of being the 
commercial capital and most important manufacturing town 
in Ireland. It is only within recent years (1888) that it has 
been raised to the dignity of a city, but it is beyond all dis- 
pute that Belfast has won for herself by her loyalty, her 
unflagging industry and the integrity of her citizens, all the 
honors that have been bestowed upon her. 

"The name Belfast is derived from the Celtic word 'Beol 
fearsad,' signifying the mouth of a ford (or Beol) ; and fear- 
sad, pools of water in a sandbank. A very ancient tradition 
says that this ford (or sandbank) was the scene of a battle 
in A. D. 660. 

"The first castle of Belfast was probably built by Sir 
John De Courcey, although Belfast was then hardl> more 
than a fishing village. In 1316 the castle was sacked 



262 

bj- Edward Bruce, brother to the great Robert, who destroyed 
many towns in Ireland during scrimmages between the Scotch 
and Irish. It is recorded that King Jolm passed tlirougli 
Belfast on his way to Carrickfergus, and that in 1508 an expe- 
dition under Gerald, Earl of Kildare, Lord Deputy of Ireland, 
entered Ulster and destroyed the Castle of Belfast; it was, 
however, fully restored and re-occupied by the O'Niels; but 
in 1812 the Earl of Kildare made a second attack and again 
destroyed the castle, which seems to have been the scene of 
many a sanguinary fray, it having been taken and retaken 
frequently during this unsettled period. 

"During the civil war in 1G41 Belfast was brought promi- 
nently into notice; it was taken possession of by General 
Munro on behalf of the Scottish Government. The Scotch 
held Belfast until in 1648 when it was taken possession of by 
the English. The last castle was erected by Sir Arthur 
Chicester, Lord Deputy of Ireland, afterwards Baron Chicester 
of Belfast, early in the seventeenth century and was accident- 
ally destroyed by fire in 1708, when the three Ladies 
Chichester, daughters of the third Earl of Donegall, perished 
in the conflagration. 

" Belfast is the nucleus of the staple trade of Ulster, con- 
taining about fifty flax spinning mills and forty linen weaving 
factories, and giving employment to over 50,000 people. The 
damask manufacturing is pursued with great spirit and suc- 
cess. The sewed muslin trade of Belfast is also of vast 
importance. 

"The magnificent shipbuilding yards of Harland and 
Wolff, and other shipbuilding firms, have created a friendly 
rivalry with the Clyde and indeed, in some respects, exceeds 
in importance the class of vessels turned out from any port 
of the world. Belfast is essentially a shipbuilding port and 
possibly, except for the linen manufacturing, no branch of 
industry has done so much to increase its prosperity. The 
chief firm engaged in this work, Harland & Wolff of Queens 
Island in the River Lagan, off Belfast, may be considered one 
of the first and most extensive in the world. Amongst the 



263 

ships turned out by them are the Oceanic, Celtic, Majestic, 
Teutonic and Baltic, the last in her day, (1904), being the 
largest vessel afloat. (The Titanic which was lost in the 
spring of 1912 in collision with an iceberg, also was built by 
Harland & Wolff.— W. B.). Harland & Wolf commenced busi- 
ness in 1853 and in 1859 the staff was lOU men. There are 
now engaged from 9000 to 12,000." 



CHAPTER XXX. 
BELFAST. 

I had a good long walk through the city, saw as much of 
it as I cared to just then, and as my inner man began to re- 
mind me that he needed attention, I walked back to High 
street where I entered a restaurant and had breakfast. 

On my way back to High street I noticed that the streets 
were full of working and business people who were going to 
their occupations. They were fine, hearty lads and lassies, 
rosy cheeked, good natured, orderly and well behaved. No 
rowdyism to be seen here. After breakfast, according to my 
usual habit when I got into a strange town I hunted up a 
furnished room. 

Down near the waterfront there is a maze of small streets 
which are inhabited by the poorer class of people and it was 
there I went to find a furnished room. In a short, narrow 
street I came upon an unpretentious hotel built of stone and 
which was three stories in height, narrow and cheap looking; 
in it I concluded to go to try my luck for lodgings. I went in 
and found myself in a small anteroom, or office, which was 
stone flagged and contained a couple of rickety chairs, a cheap 
old counter and nothing more. At the back of it was a small 
kitchen which served as dining room as well. The latter apart- 
ment opened on a small stone flagged courtyard which was 



264 

entirely shut in by the buildings that surrounded it. The 
kitchen door opening on yard or court, was of wood and in 
two parts, an upper and a lower; either one of which could 
be opened or closed independently of the other. The lower 
half was usually closed and the upper part left open; why, I 
don't know. Maybe it was to keep out cats; who knows? 

After I had stamped around in the olRce a little while to 
announce my presence, for there was not a soul in it, a lady 
came down stairs and greeted me. It was the landlady. I 
informed her I was an American, that I had just arrived in 
Ireland and that I was in search of a furnished room. The 
lady was very gracious and assured me that she could accom- 
modate me. She was under thirty and decidedly handsome. 
She had a round, full face, a buxom figure and the most de- 
lightful accent you ever heard. I fancied her at once. We 
had a good, long chat and she rented me a small, tront room 
on the top floor at a satisfying price. While we were in the 
room talking she was so very amiable and agreeable that I 
could not resist an intent to embrace her but this she resented 
instantly. We had a struggle, but she fought so strenuousl} , 
yet good-naturedly, that I desisted. 

"Why can't I have a kiss?" asked I. 

"The ladies in Ireland don't do such things," said she. 

At this I wondered but maybe it is true, thought I. I 
afterward learned that the ladies in Ireland are very circum- 
spect. They are mindful of their honor for if they lose it, 
the finger of scorn and contumely will be pointed at them, 
and they find it wise to pull up stakes and go elsewhere. 

The lady whom I had so irresistibly been drawn to was 'n 
partnership with her sister, and both were owners of the 
hotel which had been left them by their father. The sister 
was sick in bed and my landlady took me in to see her, first 
asking permission of the invalid to do so. 

I went in and was introduced to as sweet a young woman 
as ever I set eyes on, who was in bed with some complaint, 
the nature of which I did not learn. She had fine grey eyes, 
light hair and features that were comely, but her cheeks were 



2C5 

somewhat sunken. The poor dear, young lady; how I pitied 
her! I joked with her somewhat, told her that I was a 
stranger in Ireland and that I was in sore need of a chaperon. 
I begged her to get well so that she could chaperon me about. 
At this she laughed and said she would surely try. 

I went in to see her several times afterward during my 
stay, to cheer her up and to chat with her. 

After renting the room I went forth on a further sight- 
seeing tour of the city. I crossed the Lagan on a handsome 
and substantial stone bridge and came upon an old district 
that was full of queer streets and houses. Over them hovered 
an atmosphere that I would designate as being distinctly Irish, 
for it felt different from a Scottish atmosphere. I cannot 
properly describe such things; they must be felt to be prop- 
erly appreciated. 

In the River Lagan I noticed quite a number of low, 
rather fiat boats that seemed something like canal boats, yet 
they were not that, for they differed from canal boats in many 
respects. The sailing vessels seemed odd to me, too, for I 
had never seen the like of them before. 

Along the wharves on both sides of the river, steamers 
were moored. On the right bank as you stand on the hand- 
some bridge I have alluded to which is called the Queen's 
Bridge and was named after Queen Victoria, no doubt, you 
can see Queens Island, on which is located Harland & Wolff's 
famous shipyard. It is not far down the river. As I did not 
visit the yard I cannot say much about it. 

I strolled into Ormeau Park which is a pleasant spot 
owned by the city and can be reached after a pretty long hike 
through a maze of streets in a residential district. This park, 
before the city acquired it, was an extensive domain owned by 
Lord Donegall who made it his country residence. It contains 
rare old trees, lawns, shady walks and bowers, and I had not 
^een in the park long before I scraped up an acquaintance 
with a lively young lady, who, as soon as she learned that I 
was from America, became friendly. She was the daughter 
of a college professor who had to leave Ireland because of iil 



266 

health, and she had a brother in Los Angeles, California. She 
asked me if I had met him, but I expressed my regret that I 
had not. Then she wanted to know all about Los Angeles and 
I gave her all the information that I could which was not 
much, for I am not well acquainted in that city, having been 
there less than twenty-four hours. 

The young lady was slight in form and below medium 
height. She had red hair, small, thin features, quick eyes, 
and was vivacious in manner, but not pretty. She was a 
deaconess in a church in Belfast, she told me, but what such 
a position implies I do not know, nor did I like to ask ques- 
tions regarding it. The young lady was well educated and 
intellectual, but from further associations with her at subse- 
quent periods I gathered that she was only virtuous from fear 
of gossip and that she was a little hypocrite. Not a nice thing 
to say, maybe, but it is true. 

After returning to the city from the park, I boarded a 
tram at Royal avenue and rode out into the suburbs and en- 
joyed the ride very much. I mounted to the upper deck of tlie 
tram, which is reached by means of a spiral stairway at the 
rear platform, and sat down on a bench, pulled forth my pipe 
and indvilged in a comfortable smoke while viewing the scenes 
as the car rolled along. I passed the public library on Royal 
avenue and other fine buildings, and then came to York street, 
which is not a high toned thoroughfare, but a broad one full 
of old-fashioned stores and buildings. Some of the suburbs 
around Belfast are pretty, and wear a country-like ^nd quaint 
aspect. 

Taking everything into consideration, I will candidly say 
that Belfast does not amount to much as a show town. It is 
a practical, commercial city and contains few antiquities. It 
is modern and up-to-date and contains wholesale and retail 
establishments, many factories, and it is a hive of industry 
and commercialism. Had I had the means I would not have 
remained there long, but would have gone to the south of 
Ireland to visit Dublin and other show places; but I had to 
remain in Belfast to find something to do. I looked for a 



2G7 

position of some kind. The trials and tribulations I had in 
finding one were many. Sometimes I despaired, but finally 1 
secured a situation as assistant porter in a large stoie on 
Royal avenue, and had it not been for the fact that the head 
porter had spent some time in America, I would not have 
secured the position. 

I worked conscientiously and steadily and by so doing 
retained my job for several months; as long, in fact, as I 
cared to. I saved every penny that I could and had de- 
termined that I would take a steamer home again as soon as 
I could, for I was getting homesick; a longing to go home 
came over me that I could not resist. It is no joke at all 
to be in the "old country" without money, for a thousand 
and one reasons that I need not state here. Even with money, 
sightseeing palls on one eventually. 

I will try to put before the reader graphically as I can 
how things are done in Ireland so as to enable him to form 
his own impressions. I clipped some advertisements from the 
"Northern Whig" newspaper of Belfast which are worthy of 
perusal. Here is the manner in which a Belfast dentist 
advertises: 



BRADLEY'S TEETH. 
Being fitted in one day without the removal of 
teeth or stumps, it is utterly impossible to go else- 
where and obtain better value than we offer. Sets from 
21 shillings; single teeth from 2i^ shillings (about GO 
cents). Remodeling at very little cost. Part railway 
fare allowed. Established 1865. Bradley, 3 Donegall 
Place, Belfast. 



SALE THIS DAY. 
Short Notice. 
Peremptory, and Compulsary Sale of Valuable Motor 
Car. 

To be Sold by Auction, at our Rooms, on Saturday 
at the hour of 11 : 30 A. M. 



268 



10-12 H. P. 2 Cylinder Coventry-Humber Moto' Car; 
Ignition Accumulator; 3 speeds and reverse; Dunlop 
tyres; side entrance, to seat 4; upholstered red; dark- 
red body; in excellent condition and good running order. 
Owing to the circumstances the Car must be Sold. 
On view Friday, at our Rooms. 
Black & Son, Auctioneers and Valuaters, 
126 Royal Avenue. 



BLACKFACED EWE HOGGS. 

County Auction Mart, Ayr. 

Annual Market Sale for Blackfaced Ewe Hoggs, and 

Special for Blackfaced Wedder Hoggs; also Sheep Sale 

for all classes of Grazing Cattle, when these will be 

exposed — 

3,000 Blackfaced Ewe Hoggs, all of which have been 
wintered in the County, affording Buyers an opportunity 
of Selecting Stock Hoggs of a good class. 
1,000 Cross Hoggs. 
200 Blackfaced Wedder Hoggs. 

60 Blackfaced Ewes, with Cross Lambs at foot. 
150 to 200 Grazing Cattle, including several Lots 
of Good Eild Queys and Stirks, and a number of Bullocks 
for Short Keep. 

Sale will start with Cattle in Dairy Ring at 10 
o'clock; Sheep in Special Ring immediately after, prob- 
ably about 12, Starting with Ewes. 



Important Auction of those Highly Valuable and Old 
Established Licensed Premises known as Crawfords- 
burn Inn, Crawfordsburn Co. Down, together with Six 
Day License, Fixtures and Fittings. 

We beg to announce instructions from Mr. J. S. 
Bede to sell by Auction in The Mart, Rosemary Street, 
Belfast. 



269 

His entire interest in those Well Known and His- 
torical Licensed Premises, held under Leases from the 
Marquis of Dufferin and Ava. 

This Old Established and Historical Inn is most 
picturesquely situated in the Village of Crawfordsburn, 
on the main road from Belfast to Bangor, being about 
8 miles from Belfast and 1 mile from Helen's Bay 
Station. It contains large Tearoom, 30 ft. x 18 ft. Bar, 
G Sitting Rooms, G Bedrooms, Lavatory, Bath Room, 2 
Kitchens, Pantries, Scullery, Larders, and 2 Commo- 
dious Spirit and Beer Cellars. At the rear is a very 
pretty old Garden, beautifully laid out; within the 
Gardens is a spacious Ballroom for the use of visitors. 
The Crawfordsburn Inn is a most favorite resort for 
motorists, cyclists, picnic parties, etc., and many thous- 
ands find it a delightful spot in which to enjoy the hospi- 
tality offered. 

The Premises are only being offered for Sale owing 
to the present representative of the family, which has 
been in occupation of the Inn for the past 80 years, be- 
ing desirous of retiring into private life after a most 
successful business career. 

The Auctioneers can with the utmost confidence 
recommend the above Premises to intending purchaseis, 
it being seldom an opportunity offers of acquiring such 
a thoroughly sound and remunerative business. 

A great many parties have been arranged for the 
coming season, of which the purchaser will have the 
benefit. 

There is a plentiful supply of water laid on the 
Premises. Immediate possession can be given. The 
Purchaser shall take the Stock-in-Trade, Furniture, and 
Utensils at a valuation. For particulars as to title and 
conditions of sale apply to Henry Camp, Solicitor, Rose- 
mary Street, Belfast. Belden & Son, Auctionep)-s and 
Valuators, Rosemary Street, Belfast. 



270 

Here are a few Seaside Resort advertisements which I 
copied from Belfast newspapers, and which I republish to 
show how things are done on the other side of the water: — 



SEASIDE RESIDENCES. 

Princess Gardens, Marino. 
Delightfully Situated House, Overlooking Sea, con- 
taining two Reception, seven Bed Rooms; Gardens, etc. 

Bangor. — Groom Villa, Clifton Road, to let; well fur- 
nished; 2 Reception, 5 Bed Rooms, Dressing Rooms, 
Bathroom; overlooking lough; magnificent view, five 
minutes from boat. 

Bangor. — Sea Front. — Sunnybank, Seacliff Road, to let, 
furnished or unfurnished; 3 sitting rooms, 5 bedrooms 
(9 beds); bath, (h. & c.) cycle shed; front and side 
gardens. 

Bangor. — Lorelei; Private Boardinghouse, overlooking 
Bay and Marine Gardens; convenient to bathing and 
train. 

Castlerock. — To let. Villa, furnished; fronting sea; 
convenient to station; 8 apartments; bath. 

Furnished Rooms to Let, Ballycarry Village, one mile 
from Whitehead; cooking and attendance if required. 

Helen's Bay. — "Seahaven" to let, furnished; 2 reception 
rooms, 5 bedrooms, bathroom, etc., main water supply. 

Helen's Bay. — To Let, furnished, Skelly Hill Cottage; 
6 bedrooms and 2 sitting-rooms; five minutes walk from 
station and shore. 

Portrush. — Alston Boarding House, Landsdowne Cres- 
cent; uninterrupted sea; private rooms, with board 
(optional). 



271 



Portnish. — Dunard, Landsdowne Crescent; high-class 
Boarding Residence, facing sea and Giant's Causeway. 
Reduced terms now. 

Whitehead. — To Let, Furnislied House. 



A loyal Irishman wrote the following article which 1 
clipped from a newspaper. It gives a general resume of 
Ireland and contains information that is worth knowing: 

"Some people believe that the only thing in which Ireland 
excels is in bogs and the number of its emigrants, and even 
among Irishmen themselves the belief prevails that in 
industry and commerce they take a back seat. 

"As a matter of fact considering the dearth of capital 
and political unrest under which the Emerald Isle labors she 
has good reason to be proud of herself. Handicapped as 
Ireland is, she can boast of the largest shipbuilding and the 
largest brewery concerns in the world, of supplying half the 
people of these islands with their linen collars, tablecloths, 
handkerchiefs and shirts, of placing on their breakfast table 
the choicest of bacon and butter — although these generally 
masquerade as products of Wiltshire and Dorset — and of 
beating the Scotch hollow with their famous John Jamieson. 

"There is nothing of which England and Scotland are 
more proud than their skill in building ships. But neither 
the Tyne, the Clyde nor the Mersey can show anything equal 
to the shipbuilding yards of Harland & Wolff of Belfast. For 
four successive years this firm held the highest place in the 
world as regards the amount of tonnage launched. Only forty 
years ago the factory was so small that its total of employees 
amounted to less than 100 men. At present it employs 9000, 
which probably means that it is the life and suppoi i; of some 
20,000 men, women and children — the population of a good- 
sized town. 

"The works cover 80 acres and include carpenter and 
joiner's shops, painter's shops, cabinetmaker's shops, uphol- 



272 

sterer's shops, boat-building sheds, drying Icilns, engine works, 
etc. All the ships of the White Star Line were built here, 
including the famous Teutonic and Majestic. The la''gest 
vessel ever designed for commercial purposes was built and 
launched here. Several gunboats and torpedo boats also have 
been built by Messrs. Harland & Wolff for the navy; and 
cruisers and battle-ships have been engined by them. 

"Nothing in the nature of shoddy ever comes from Ireland. 
That is why the Canadian in his Irish frieze coat and 
Donegal stockings, defies the winter; why Balbriggan hose — - 
a dozen pair of which would wear as long as the late Queen's 
reign — are imitated by not only English but German manu- 
facturers, why Irish tweeds find their way all over the Con- 
tinent and why Irish stout has a foreign export greater than 
the total export from England, Scotland and Wales. 

"Guinness' brewery hardly needs description. It is prob- 
ably the best existing proof that all Ireland needs to make her 
a great industrial nation is a few dozen men of capital and 
energy. No commercial company in the world can ?how such 
a record as that of Guinness' during the past ten years. The 
enormous trade of this firm may be understood from the fact 
that their products pay half a million pounds excise every 
year. Although only one of the 13,000 British breweries, they 
produce one barrel in twenty of the total British brew. They 
have nine miles of water mains and 150 horses; employ 40 
hands to make barrels, alone; 2500 hands altogether and have 
a printing press that turns out one hundred million labels 
annually. And they lick creation in making stout. 

"Another industry in which Ireland excels is linen making. 
A London outfitter told the writer that everj^ high-class linen 
shirt, collar and handkerchief in the London shops comes from 
the North of Ireland. France has a reputation for turning out 
a finer quality than Belfast but the best French goods aie 
really Irish and that amusing story is true of the Belfast 
manufacturer's wife who brought home some beautiful hand- 
kerchiefs from Paris, and asked her husband why he couM 
not make goods like them. On examination he found they 



273 

were part of a lot he had recently exported. The annual pro- 
duce of linen must be worth little short of 75,000,000 of dollars, 
and the size of the factories may be known from the fact that 
two of the chief Belfast concerns employ 9000 hands between 
them. 

"We may truly say that whatever is Irish is good. Its 
Limerick and Waterford bacon has one I'ival — Wiltshire; and 
the quantities of the Irish article consumed in England is the 
best proof of how it is appreciated. Unfortunately some Irish 
provision merchants are, intentionally or otherwise, leagued 
together to defame Irish produce; and they sell the best 
Irish bacon under the name of Wiltshire, just as thej sell 
thousands of tons of the choicest Irish butter as Dorset and 
Danish, while to the inferior grades and no doubt to American 
products, they give the name Irish. Why do not the Ii'isli 
dairies combine with the bacon factories and establish shops 
all over London? If the movement were universal we should 
soon have half of England breakfasting on Waterford bacon and 
Tipperary butter, lunching off Matterson's sausages — of which 
2 ounces are equal to a pound of London bread and fat — and 
dining off Limerick hams. 

"There is one Irish product which Englishmen certainly 
appreciate. England drinks three millions of gallons of Irish 
whiskey annually. Even Scotland takes half a million gallons 
from Ireland. 

"Probably Jamieson's whiskey is the best distilled on the 
whole globe. It is the highest priced on the market, anyhow, 
and commands as much as $2.50 a gallon in bond. The produce 
of this article in Ireland, however, does not quite equal that 
of Scotland, chiefly because the Irishman drinks only about 
two-thirds as much whiskey as the Scotchman. There are 
27 distilleries in Ireland which manufacture nearly eight 
million gallons annually. Four milions they drink at home; 
three milions they send to England; over half a million to 
Scotland and about a quarter of a million direct to the colonies 
and foreign countries. In eight years Ireland has contributed 
over $150,000,000 to the excise. 



274 

"One last product let me mention. You may go to Carrara 
for marble, but if you want tbe most beautiful green serpen- 
tine in the world you will find it in Galway. If you want black 
marble that cannot be equalled you can get it from the shores 
of Lough Corrib. Nowhere will you find anything to beat the 
beautiful red marble of Donegal, the blue and yellow marble 
or Armagh, the purple and white of Cork, and the variegated 
marble found in Kerry, near Tralee. It is admitted that the 
most beautiful stones in the Albert Memorial, Hyde Park 
(London), are the four specimens of Irish granite, while the 
Thames embankment is a perpetual illustration of Dalkey 
granite." 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

PORTRUSH. 

In the good old summer time when business began to 
slacken up somewhat in Belfast and when not a few of its 
residents had flitted to the Continent, to England, to seaside 
resorts and to other places, I pulled up stakes and flitted too. 
Portrush, the Queen of Irish watering places was my objective 
point. I took a tram and rode out a long distance to York 
street where I entered a railroad station and bought a ticket 
for Portrush. 

. The distance between the two towns is not great nor the 
fare high so I considered it cheaper to ride than to v/alk, for, 
in such a case, a saving of time means a saving of money. On 
my way up north I passed some likely towns such as Baly- 
mena and Coleraine and a host of smaller towns and villages; 
by noon I found myself in Portrush. 

As I stated, Portrush is called the Queen of Irish watering 
places and I think by drawing a comparison between it and 
the Queen of American watering places the reader may ob- 
tain a better impression of it. 



275 

According to my prejudiced notion Coney Island, New 
Yorlv, is the Queen of American watering places. Coney 
Island is less than twenty miles from New York City, it can 
be reached in a street car from New York City on payment 
of a ten cent fare — it used to be five cents only— and beyond 
all comparison, it is the livliest and dizziest place on the 
American continent. 

Being so near to New York and the fare being so low, 
Coney Island is the playground and recreation ground of not 
only the masses of New York, but of Brooklyn and other sub- 
urban towns and cities as well, and on a hot summer's day 
the throngs are so great that locomotion on Surf avenue, the 
main thoroughfare, is difficult. 

And what sights there are to be seen along Coney Island's 
main avenue! Enough to bewilder one. There are huge 
hotels and restaurants, clam chowder places where you can 
get the real Coney Island Clam chowder if you know where to 
go for it — there are huge dancing and bathing pavilions, 
moving picture shows by the dozen where you may spend 
hours by merely buying a five-cent drink; and a host of 
variety theatres with a free admission. Then there are Luna 
Park and other amusement parks, shoot-the-chutes, merry-go- 
rounds by the score, Ferris wheel, observatory, drinking 
places by the hundred, candy-pull booths, "hot dog" empor- 
iums, hot sandwich kiosks, hot clam chowder places in open 
boats with seats and tables in them, a "Rocky road to 
Dublin" show, wild animal shows, popcorn, ice cream and 
candy booths, stores, railroad and street car stations, country 
villas and hotels, and a thousand and one other attractions 
and distractions. On a real hot day more than half a million 
people visit Coney Island and there is such a jam and din 
that you cannot hear yourself think. 

Portrush is totally different. It lies on the Bay of Foyle 
(Lough Foyle) in the extreme northern part of Ireland, and 
it is a quiet, staid and orderly place that is visited by the 
more well-to-do people of England, Ireland and Scotland, 
but by the Irish mostly. It is a neat and clean little city of 



276 

about 10,000 people, I should judge, contains the usual High 
street, and side streets, and quite a number of stores and 
hotels, rooming and boarding houses of all grades. 

There are one or two theatres in the place, a bathing 
beach, fine walks along the cliffs overlooking the ocean, and 
just a few amusements of a minor character. And 5;et the 
place is very pretty and alluring. There are scenes around 
and about that are wild and picturesque and that charm one 
with their beauty. Not more than a mile or two distant 
is an old castle, Dunluce Castle, which is now in ruins and a 
little further on along the coast stands the famous Giant's 
Causeway which is renowned in legend and story. Along the 
beach leading toward the Causeway stand tall cliff.s that are 
honeycombed with caves, in which, at one time, smugglers 
had their lairs. I was in one or two of these caves and it 
seemed to me that they were naturally made for smuggling 
purposes, for they are deep, dark and intricate, and afford 
splendid hiding places. It is possible that they are used 
today for such purposes. Who knows? There are plenty 
of these caves all along the coast. The beaches are fine, hard 
and sandy. 

Dunluce Castle stands on a promontory that juts far out 
into the sea and was a feudal stronghold of considerable 
dimensions at one time, as the ruins show. It had the usual 
lower and upper defensive walls, a citadel or fort, flanking 
towers, a moat, drawbridge and portcullis; the castle proper 
and outbuildings, the usual chapel, ramparts and battlements 
and all the other adjuncts of a stronghold of an early period. 
But little now remains, except a few of the circular turrets 
and the stone outbuildings and walls. 

Ireland is as old a country as any, and has had its ups 
and downs. Not so many years ago it had more than 25,000,000 
of people but today it has less than 5,000,000, the majority 
having emigrated, many of them to the United States. There 
is a vast difference between the Irish in Ireland and the 
Irish in the United States. 



- 277 

The Irishman at home in the old country, is civil, decent, 
respectful and mannerly, and pleasant to come in contact with 
but after he has been in the United States a while he becomes 
Yankeeized and a change comes over his disposition. Being 
naturally assimmilative he acquires the Yankee wsys and is 
as keen after the dollar as anyone. And he gets them, too, 
in one way or another. He is into all kinds of enterprises, and 
in all of them he makes good. You will have to get up pretty 
early in the morning to coon him. He is all right and gets 
along fine, thank you. 

The Giant's Causeway is a show place that, people travel 
a long ways to see, but a syndicate of grafters have fenced it 
in and charge an admission fee to see it. As I do not believe 
in encouraging grafting — not even a penny's worth — I did not 
go to see the Causeway, but I will give a short description 
of it which I borrowed from an Irish source: 

"The Giant's Causeway is a remarkable basaltic formation 
situated about midway between the towns of Coleraine and 
Ballycastle, near Portrush. Its close proximity to the inter- 
esting and now celebrated watering-place, Portrush has con- 
tributed to the latter very excellent service, if only by reason 
of the number of visitors who throng in the thousands every 
year, not only to acquaint themselves with the charm and 
interest attaching to this district but also to enjoy the invig- 
orating breezes and the almost unnumbered pleasures of 
Portrush itself. To a great degree, the interest attached to 
the Antrim Coast is due to the evidence of the past, which 
beyond doubt indicates volcanic emotion on a vast scale, so 
vast, indeed, that the dark basaltic rocks cover an area of 
many miles extending even far beyond the country itself. 
Throughout this area the basalt is found capping all the emi- 
nences and constituting the general superstratum in beds of 
an average thickness of 500 feet. During the series of vol- 
canic eruptions the dark basalt has broken through the sedi- 
mentary chalk rocks and at frequent intervals there is 
evidence of the latter being topped by the dark basalt, 
thus giving a fine and picturesque effect by the con- 



278 

trast in colour. Distinct beds occur of these singular col- 
umnar formations. The Giant's Causeway is formed of 
about 40,000 of these columns. They extend over a large area 
and form separate groups of various shapes, which have been 
named Lord Antrim's Parlor, The Stoocans, The Little Cause- 
way, The Middle or Honeycomb, The Giant's Loom, The 
Giant's Well, The Giant's Head, The Wishing Chair, The 
Grand Causeway, (which is about 700 feet long with pillars 
40 feet high). Pleaskin Head is an important feature on the 
east, 400 feet high, with pillars 40 feet high." 

I remained in Portrush a week and during that period got 
to know the place well. The early morning was the finest 
part of the day, for then the sun was bright and clear, but 
soon afterward, clouds came up and it was showery more or 
less all day. A little rain water did not hurt me, however. I 
strolled through High street gazing into the shop windows 
with a never failing interest; I observed the queer restaurants 
and the little stores in the other streets; then I would go down 
to the cute little harbor, or ship basin, with its odd lighthouse, 
or walk tilong the beach toward Dunluce Castle to hear what 
the wild waves were saying and to explore again the smug- 
glers' caves. Roads led out from Portrush into the farming 
country beyond but there was not much to see out that way. 

The bathing beach at Portrush is a small one with havd 
sand and is not much utilized by bathers except on very warm 
days, which are not many along that rockbound, rugged sea- 
coast which lies far up in the north. Along the promentory, 
which is a flat piece of table land about half a mile long and 
about as wide, there are good pathways extending over the 
sea where one may catch invigorating breezes and obtain 
fine views of the wide expanse of waters, and there too, one 
may encounter the visitors. July and August are about the 
livliest months at Portrush. 

But a fellow without money can't do much in Portrush 
or anywhere else for that matter, for he cannot mix in 
society, go in for amusements, take his best girl out or have 
much fun of any kind, for he is handicapped. Had 1 been 



279 

able to dress swell and to cut a dash I believe I couid lia',e 
made things a little more interesting for some people in Port- 
rush, but the heart was kind of taken out of me and I 
wanted to go home to my mammy. If ever 1 go to Ireland 
again — and I hope I will— it will be with plenty of money m 
my purse and I will go to Dublin and the south of Ireland 
which, I am told, is the finest part of the country. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

LONDONDERRY. 

Londonderry, or Derry as it is usually called, lies along 
Lough Foyle (or the River Foyle, which is an integral part of 
it) about twenty-five miles southwest of Portrush. It is a fine 
old city, and one of the most wide-awake and progressive in 
the northern part of Ireland. The progressive people in that 
burg and the Chamber of Commerce have gotten out a boost- 
ing publication from which I take the following extracts that 
afford useful information: 

LONDONDERRY AS AN INDUSTRIAL CENTRE. 
Published by 
The Industrial Development Committee of the Londonderry 
Chamber of Commerce. With the Approval of the 
Corporation of the City of Londonderry and 
Londonderry Port and Harbour Board. 
"When selecting a site for a factory or workshop, select 
one in the Northeast of Ireland, in or near the city of London- 
derry, and thereby confer a benefit on Ireland and yourself. 
The statements herein have been verified by the American 
Consul, East Wall, Londonderry; The French Consul, Foyle 
Street, Londonderry; the German Consul, Baltic Buildings, 
Londonderry. 



280 

"We cordially invite and will heartily welcome, any 
British or Foreign manufacturers who may be prepared to 
establish industries in our district, and assure them that 
they will be accorded all necessary facilities and encourage- 
ment. 

"The object of this publication is to state facts relating 
to Londonderry and district from an industrial standpoint, 
in the hope of attracting manufacturers to the city and dis- 
trict by the superior advantages offered. 

"Londonderry, the capital of the northwest of Ireland is 
situated in the populous and prosperous province of Ulster, 
and is the fourth largest city in Ireland. It is the only port 
of any importance on the^orth West coast, and is within easy 
distance by sea of the chief centres of population and indus 
try in the North West of England and the South West of Scot- 
land, with which it is in daily communication by regular steam- 
ship services. By rail it is in communication with the main 
system in Ireland. 

"An intelligent and steady working population is trained 
in habits of industry; for Londonderry for half a century has 
been one of tlie principal seats of the Shirt and Collar busi- 
ness of the United Kingdom. 

"Capitalists will find Londonderry one of the most 
advanced and modern cities in the country, with excellent 
Elementary, Secondary and Technical Schools and College?; 
up-to-date Municipal services; a quick and progressive popu- 
lation, accustomed to organized industrial effort, the result 
of long years of application; spacious recreation grounds and 
parks; close proximity to seaside resorts and a low death 
rate. 

' "In the surrounding district of the Counties Derry, Done- 
gall and Tyrbnfe, there is an area largely undeveloped, con- 
taining an abundance of cheap labour and considerable water 
power — an area in touch with Londonderry by railway and 
canal, and in which such industries as have been organized 
within recent years have taken firm root and flourished 
amazingly. 



281 

"Londonderry-made shirts and collars are exported to all 
parts of the civilized world; so famous is the manufacture, 
that in the enormous factories in the city, and in the cottages 
of the surrounding districts, employment is- given to over 
60 thousand people. Individual factories employ more than 
4,000 workers, and in connection with the. business and 
kindred trades, there exists an extensive laundry industry. 

"The other industries of the City comprise whiskey dis- 
tilleries (both pot and patent still), yeast, soap, mineral water, 
artificial manures, biscuit, fancy box and woolen and hosiery 
manufacturies, grain and saw milling, brick, agricultural im- 
plements, cabinet and furniture making, coopering, coach 
building, engineering and foundry work, printing and litho- 
graphy, book-binding, bacon-curing, railway repairs, etc. The 
industries of the surrounding district includes woolen hosiery 
and carpet manufacturies, flax spinning, granite, quarrying, 
herring and mackerel-curing, etc., in addition to shirt and 
collar manufacture. 

"From the port a large export trade is done in cattle and 
farm produce, pigs, butter, eggs, poultry, etc. For over half 
a century shipbuilding has been carried on in Londonderry. 
Lough Foyle is immediately on the line of the sea traffic 
passing the North of Ireland, and is the most convenient har- 
bour for repairing injuries to vessels on or about the North or 
North West Coast. 

"The best classes of building stones are known to occur 
in many districts in the Counties of Donegal, Derry, and 
Tyrone, in almost inexhaustible quantities. Donegal possesses 
large deposits of granites of a variegated nature; the Burton- 
port District being especially rich in granite, and it would 
appear that this district is worthy of further development. 
Sandstone suitable for all kinds of architectural work occurs, 
and is being quarried at Mountcharles, Co. Donegal. Lime- 
stone, Sandstone and Whinstone, are also being quarried in 
various parts of these counties. Brickmaking materials 
exist and are being worked in different places in these coun- 
ties. The principal localities are Burnfoot, near Derry and 



282 

Dungannon and Coalisland, Co. Tyrone. Fireclay goods and 
pottery are manufactured in the Coalisland District, and at 
Beleek, Co. Fermanagh. 

"The mineral resources of these counties are almost un- 
developed, and it is, of course, difficult to say in the absence 
of proper and systematic prospecting, whether many of the 
deposits which show signs of being metaliferous are of a 
payable nature or not. The deposits to which the prospector 
might pay attention are the coal deposits in the neighborhood 
of Coalisland, Co. Tyrone; the lead deposits in the neighbor- 
hood of Carndonagh, Co. Donegal; the hematite deposits in 
the Slieve Gullion District, near Draperstown; the steatite 
deposits at Crohy Head and the Barytes deposits near 
Draperstown. White sand of good quality and suitable for the 
manufacture of white flint glass occurs on Muckish Moun- 
tain near Falcarragh, Co. Donegal. Bog iron ore occurs 
chiefly in the Rathmullan and Buncrana district, Co. Donegal 
and is exported in large quantities for use in the purification 
of gas. Extensive salt deposits are worked at Carrickfergus 
and brine is found at Larne, Co. Antrim. 

"Cheap and good water has done much to put the Lon- 
donderry shirt, collar and laundry industries in the promi- 
nent position they now occupy. The Londonderry water rates 
are amongst the lowest in the British Isles. 

"The peculiar circumstances of the Londonderry labour 
market give it many advantages over other places in tiie 
.matter of labour. Its situation on the River Foyle, in close 
proximity to all the great coal fields of Western Britain gives 
Londonderry a plentiful supply of cheap sea-borne coal. The 
situation of Londonderry in the midst of a rich argicultural 
district makes supplies of all kinds procurable at a remark- 
ably low rate. 

"As surely as the Clyde made Glasgow and Glasgow made 
the Clyde, the Foyle has made and is making Londonderry. 
There is daily steamship communication between it and the 
great ports of West England and Scotland and regular sail- 
ings to American ports. 



"In the matter of railway communication tire City of 
Londonderry is peculiarly well situated. It is served directly 
or indirectly by the following railways: The Great Northern 
Railway of Ireland; The Midland Railway of England; The 
Donegal Railway; Londonderry & Lough Swilly Railway; 
Letterkenny Railway; Strabane & Letterkenny Railway: 
Glenties Railway; Donegal & Balbyshannon Railway; London- 
derry & Letterkenny Railway; Burtonport Railway, 
Cardonagh Railway; Limavaddy & Dungiven Railway; Derry 
Central Railway; Sligo, Leitrim & Northern Counties Rail- 
way. Low rates for traffic are secured by the existence of 
keen competition. Belfast is less than three hours and Dublin 
just under four hours by rail from Londonderry. The city 
possesses both rail and waterway communication to all the 
large sea-port towns of Ireland. 

"The weekly wages for unskilled labouring men range 
from $3.00 per week upwards. For unskilled boys, from $1.00 
to $1.25 per week. Female labour is at present altogethei- 
restricted to the shirt factories, the hosiery factories, box- 
making factories, laundries and the City Offices, in all of 
which the girls are trained from between the ages of 14 to 
18, starting with a wage of $1.00 to $1.25 per week. 

"According to the last census the population of London- 
derry was 39,992. Of these 18,2G5 were males and 21,627 
females. Since then the population has substantially in- 
creased. 

"Not only does Londonderry enjoy the advantage of cheap 
produce and low rates, but the rents of workmen's houses 
are very reasonable, as the following table will show: 1 
room house, 35 to 50 cents per week; 2 room house, 35 to 50 
cents per week; 3 room house, 65 to 85 cents per week; 4 
room house, 75 cents to $1.25 per week; 5 to 8 room houses, 
$1.00 to $2.00 per week." 

Gentle reader, if you want further or more detailed infor- 
mation concerning Londonderry, write to the Board of Trade 
of that city and ask them for literature. They will be glad 



284 

to send it to you, I am sure. As I believe in boosting rather 
than in knoclting, I have tried to help the Londonderryites out 
w^ith the few hints I have re-published from their free hand- 
book, and hope it will result in some good. If not, it has done 
no harm, at any rate. 

I liked Derry at first sight. It is a pretty, wide-awake 
little burg, full of business and go, and lies along both banks 
of the River Foyle, which empties into the Bay of Foyle, a 
few miles below the city. It is built on hills and in valleys 
amid well-timbered, picturesque surroundings, and it is an 
old and historic spot with a history that is lost in tradition. 
Notwithstanding its age and venerableness, it is not sitting 
down contentedly and saying, "just look at my past, will 
you!" but it is forging ahead and building up and "boosting" 
in the American style. 

In the preceding pages I have given an example of its 
methods of boosting. A town that will help itself ought to be 
helped by others, and as a fact that it has been so helped, 
its population in the last twenty years has more than doubled. 
A number of manufacturing plants have been established 
there, which received special inducements to do so. 

In the good old fighting days of yore, when people used 
to cook their meat by riding it to death, Derry was surrounded 
by a high, thick, stone wall to keep out the invader. Part of 
this wall still stands, as I can testify to by "ocular demon- 
stheration," for I have seen it and walked on it. So thick is 
the wall that the ramparts have been converted into a prom- 
enade, which is wide enough to permit two carriages to pass 
each other along it. It is more than twenty feet wide, I should 
judge, and about as high. It stands right in the streets of 
the town, but people, as a rule, do not use it as a promenade, 
the sidewalks below being good enough for walking purposes. 
As the majority of the Derryites have business on the brain 
and have little inclination for sentiment, they use the street. 
They have not the time to ascend and descend walls when 
they can reach a point quicker by walking along the side- 
walk. 



285 

At Derry the River Foyle is about half a mile wide, and as 
the city lies on both banks of the stream, a handsome and sub- 
stantial bridge has been built across it, over which a greac 
many people and vehicles cross every day, for on one side of 
the stream is the business quarter and on the other side is 
the residence. 

Over on the residence side are many streets that are 
built on hillsides, and that are full of dwellings, shops, sol- 
diers' barracks, and other rare and quaint structures, whilst 
further out into the country some extensive and handsome 
estates will be found, which are owned by noblemen, wealthy 
manufacturers and business men. The hills almost every- 
where on this side of the river (as well as on the other side), 
are lofty, and afford charming views. 

The business section along the water front, on the left 
hand side of the stream as you go down the river, is like a 
study in the antique, for its streets are old and quaint and the 
buildings so ancient and odd, that a stranger is apt to feel — 
well, I don't know how he would feel, but I felt funny. 

Alongside the river runs a street or lane that contains 
old-fashioned hotels, lodging houses and business establish- 
ments of various kinds, including the ticket offices of the 
Anchor Line and Allan Line of steamships that ply between 
New York, Londonderry and Glasgow. This street had an 
especial attraction for me because of these steamship offices. 
In fact, it was only because the American liners touched at 
Londonderry that I went to that city to talve ship from there. 

But I got fooled. The steamers don't come up to Derry, 
but anchor off Moville, some miles below. When I learned 
this I became frantic with disappointment, for it was my in- 
tention to work my passage home; but how was I to do it 
if the steamers did not land at Derry, nor the companies 
hire help at Derry? I was in a quandary and wished I'd 
never been born. I remained in Derry a few days cogitating^ 
what I had best do. They were not happy days. 



286 

Stranger, did you ever have a feeling of homesickness? 
Did you ever want to go somewhere, but know of no way to 
get there? 

That was my fix. I was frantic! frantic! frantic! I had 
only a few shillings in my pocket, I was a stranger in a 
strange land, knowing not which way to turn or whom to see. 
I was like a cockroach in distress when it accidentally falls 
on a hot stove and does not know in which direction to run. 

After due and careful deliberation I concluded that my 
best plan would be to return to Glasgow and bum around 
there until I could find a way to work my passage home. 
Had I had the gumption, I would have gone to the American 
Consul at Derry and asked him to send me home, bat maybe 
he would not have done so, after all. 

I secured passage to Glasgow for a small sum of money 
on a little steamer that plies between Londonderry and 
Glasgow, and when I reached Glasgow I remained there until 
I finally secured, after many trials and miseries, a job as 
steward on one of the liners. 

Instead of waiting on others on the ship, some one ougnt 
to have waited on me, for I was seasick nearly all the time, 
but I am over my troubles now. I am at home again and I 
don't want any more of the sea in mine; not in the steerage, 
anyway, or as an employe on board a boat. If ever I cross the 
duck pond again, it will be as a second class passenger on a 
big liner that don't roll or heave, and if anyone thinks he can 
get me on any other kind of a craft, he will have to be a 
faster runner than I am. 

My little tale is unfolded. Had I seen more in "Yerrup," 
maybe I could have said more, but maybe I have said too much 
as it is. 

Gentle reader, I doff my hat to you and bid you au revoir. 

THE END. 



WKR 



13 ^9^^ 



